Moving Forward
by MissBMarie
Summary: It's senior year, and Dave is still trying to face his demons. He's working to focus on his own problems, but it seems fate has a way of bringing him full circle, back to Kurt. Eventual Kurtofsky. M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

The sky appeared as only a bland dusting of white clouds after the sun rose that early September morning. What would have been an endless sea of blue was immediately engulfed in a haze that swallowed the sky in its entirety. There was a distinct chill in the air that signalled summer was migrating out, and winter wasn't too far in the distance. The trees were starting to loose their leaves, the red and yellows hues that framed the hills beginning to scatter along street sides. On a sunny day, walking through the falling leaves would have felt almost surreal.

But this morning, dark grey clouds began looming overhead and the scent of a September rain signaled an eminent downpour. Moisture was thick in the air, and though he'd only walked a block or two from his house, the temperature had significantly lowered in that short time. He could feel himself become a bit heavier from the weight of the humidity. The leaves seemed to feel it too, barely moving in the breeze, eager for the rain to _just come already_.

Dave could relate to that.

He peered behind him, watching as the clouds moved above him; not too fast, but faster than him. The dark masses of air were pushing at the lighter ones - hustling them along - and the whistling of the wind warned him '_Hey, you might want to get a move on, too_'.

And while he knew it was right, he just couldn't seem to get his feet to move faster. When he saw the hairs on his forearms start to stand up and goose bumps begin to form, he absently wished he'd grabbed his Letterman jacket over his Bully Whips one this morning...

...

Dave immediately retracted those thoughts as soon as they'd crossed him. Just like his Letterman jacket represented his high social standing inside the walls of McKinley, that red, shiny Bully Whips jacket represented something too. And in fact, if wearing it and upholding what it stood for meant suffering a rainy chill, he'd gladly weather the storm.

As if on cue, small, wet beads began to prick his neck and arms. Dark circles were forming on the sidewalk beneath his new sneakers and within seconds, that drizzle evolved into a steady flow. As he turned the next corner water came barreling down on him from the darkened skies. At first, the water rolled off the surface of the jacket, sliding down the slick material until finally the fabric gave way to the weight, and Dave could feel it soaking into his black tee shirt. His hair began to dampen, and he absently wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have made such a fuss at Santana to loose the berets.

Above him, the sky began to roar, and Dave titled his head upward as though to acknowledge it. He noted the once still, drooping leaves now whipping around violently, fighting to hold their own against the pelleting winds and heavy rain. Dave found himself slowing down until he's stopped all together on the sidewalk, watching the leaves around him struggle and battle for their all their worth.

_That _was a struggle Dave couldn't relate to. It was a battle he was too cowardly to face.

Like the leaves awaiting the rain to come, he felt heavy and weighted down. And like the leaves, he knew that the rain was the only thing that would lift that tension. Yes, Dave knew that the only way to ease his pain, and to feel like himself again, was to acknowledge who he was; to himself, to his parents and to the world at large. But, that was easier said that done.

He'd watched someone else do it though. Kurt Hummel.

He'd watched Kurt endure the deluge, in matching rain gear no less. He'd seen Kurt suffer his way through the storm, and emerge. Like the leaves, he lifted his weary shoulders and rolled in relief from the loss of tension, dripping, but reflecting brilliant specs of gold in the sunlight.

Kurt had done it. But Kurt was a very different person than Dave was. A stronger person. A better person. Dave could never shine like Kurt did. But for now he was okay with that. This time last year, Dave had been wearing his Letterman jacket, standing beside Azimio, slushy in hand. This time last year, Dave was well on his way to falling over the edge, constantly mocking and belittling Kurt, simply to assert his own dominance. To prove to himself that Kurt's feelings didn't matter to him. To prove to himself that _Kurt_didn't matter to him. That the young countertenor that waltzed into his homeroom freshmen year didn't suddenly cause his breath to catch, and stir within him emotions he'd never before experienced.

Really, Dave knew there was something wrong with him for a long time. For awhile it was as though he couldn't really identify with any kind of sexuality at all. His friends would always be saying "Wow, that girl is cute", and "look at her legs", "look at her tits". But Dave couldn't figure out how to tell if a girl was cute. And it wasn't just girls. It was the same of guys. He couldn't put together the aspects that made one person more attractive than the next.

So what was it about Kurt Hummel that awoke this awareness within him? At first, he wasn't sure what the hell was going on. He just knew sitting behind him, watching the younger boy toss his shoulder-bag over his chair everyday and smile brilliantly made his insides ache. None of the other boys in the class even acknowledged Kurt's existence, still sizing him up and trying to figure out just what the hell the young flamboyant boy was all about.

Back then, Dave had believed that his second row, window seat was a place of torment. Having to look at Kurt, and watch his effeminate mannerisms day after day. The way the younger boy balanced his bejeweled pens between his fingers, resting his chin against his propped, open hand. The way he tipped his head as he took notes, his whole body leaning into the motion and bending the soft curve of his neck. Dave knew the arch of Kurt's neck better than the back of his own hand.

What is weird to be so very turned on by that minuscule exposure of skin?

Of course it was. But that was just one of the few things that was weird about Dave. Freshmen year, it had been easy to keep to himself. He'd simply watched Kurt, memorized him and was doomed to never speak to him, as it became a silent rule by every boy in the school that Kurt Hummel was not acceptable to talk to.

Artie Abrams was the first boy to break that rule. Before that, Kurt's only friends had been girls. Mercedes Jones, and that Asian girl, Tina (she was in a bunch of AP classes, so Dave didn't really know her that well).

Dave didn't like Artie from then on.

But freshmen year, Dave didn't harbor any anger towards Kurt. He was fascinated by him, and every day would contemplate a way to talk to him. Just once. Then with only two days left of the school year - much to Dave's shock and alarm - Kurt had turned around in his desk, those perfectly manicured nails curling around the back of his seat, and those blue-green eyes opened wide, meeting Dave's pointedly.

"Hey, did you understand Mrs. Bachman's lesson in Math A at all yesterday? I got totally lost and I'm really worried about the final today." He said.

For a moment, Dave didn't say anything. For a moment, Dave wondered if perhaps he should just ignore the smaller boy entirely, like everyone else did. But, it wasn't like Azimio was even in his homeroom. In fact, the only popular kids in there were Hudson and Puckerman, and they were still mid-way through their pre-homeroom naps.

So Dave had pulled out his Math notes, and placed them wearily on his desk,

"W-Where did you get lost?" he asked. His voice was small and meek; despite having gone through puberty rather early in life. In fact he rarely used that deep tone of his. Kurt had sighed heavily in dismay, and proceeded to turn more towards Dave, explaining where he got confused. Dave spent the rest of homeroom showing Kurt where he'd gone wrong. A couple of times, they'd swapped his pencil around, fingers brushing, igniting in David a feeling he couldn't possibly wrap his brain around at the time.

When the bell rang, and the homeroom teacher began to take roll, Kurt turned around with a smile.

"Thank you." He'd said, his sweet, well formed lips curving upward. "I really appreciate it."

Two days later, as school was letting out, Dave had bumped into Kurt in the hallway, mistakenly knocking his locker belongings out of his grasp.

"Sorry!" He'd blurted, clumsily reaching down to pick up the heavy materials, trying desperately to ignore the tingling in his side from the sudden contact. He rose to his feet, presenting the fallen items to the smaller boy, "Sorry." he said again. For a moment, Kurt just stared at him, wide-eyed there in the middle of the hallway as people navigated around them.

Then, he'd smiled.

That was the last time Kurt Hummel would ever smile at Dave Karofsky.

The next year, three days into the new semester, Azimio had dropped the label "fag" for the first time, and he, Hudson and Puckerman had snatched Kurt from behind, hoisting him into the air, and tossed the much smaller boy into the school dumpster.

A year of "fag", "queer" and "homo" eventually led to more frequent dumpster dives. Slushy facials became a trend, and by the end of sophomore year, Dave was shoving Kurt into lockers, damning him for ever making him think that he was at all similar to him in any way. Similar to the boy the world seemed to loathe so very much.

And yet, Dave was still so very jealous of Artie Abrams.

Then, last year...

...Dave wasn't sure who that person was that wore his clothes and bore his name. It wasn't until he'd already gone over the edge that he realized the Dave he once was had been left behind back in that hallway. Junior year, Dave became painstakingly aware that Kurt was getting older. The curves of his face were getting sharper, those dancing muscles more defined. His clothes got bolder, his voice got louder, and that ass...

Mid-way through Junior year, Kurt was all Dave went to school for. He didn't think about his classes, or extra-curriculars. He focused only on what he could do that day to just connect with Kurt somehow, and what he could say to make his friends believe it was all out his hatred for the young man. It didn't make sense, and Dave was fully aware of that. But still, he couldn't seem to stop himself. _Why? _He wondered. Why was he so desperate to touch Kurt Hummel that he restored to throwing him into lockers just have that contact.

Then that day in the locker room...that day he...

Dave regretted scaring Kurt. He regretted every moment he'd ever inflicted any pain upon the young starlet, and he wish so badly that he could turn back time, and try again. Do things differently. But, he couldn't do that. And in retrospect, if there was one thing he wouldn't take back, it would be that kiss.

That kiss had been everything that Dave had been building up to until that point. It was the surfacing of everything he'd buried down inside himself. That kiss was his acknowledgment that no matter how much he tried to deny it, his fate was inevitable, and his feelings for the young man before him were very real.

Though the moment was fleeting, the feel of Kurt's skin under his fingertips was everything he'd ever imagined it to be. The slight whimper that erupted from Kurt's mouth and filled his own made Dave suck air hard into his chest, and it burned at his lungs. But the swelling against his ribs and the flipping and flopping of his stomach blocked that out entirely. His whole body responded, suddenly feeling relieved and tense at the same time.

And he'd sort of gone crazy on Kurt's mouth, demanding his lips move with his own, and God they had felt so good. Kurt hadn't meant to, but his lips had unconsciously moved along, unable to fight Dave at all. The clicking sound when their lips parted echoed in his ears. He knew he'd just exposed himself. And in that second, he didn't care. He just wanted to do it again.

Of course, Dave would never blame Kurt for pushing him away. Dave would never blame Kurt for anything ever again. He'd spent two years silently cursing the other boy for his own shortcomings. No More. Dave was on a better path now, taking care of his own problems, and not looking for someone to point a finger at for what he could not, or would not do.

After that, after _the kiss_, Dave wasn't sure what happened. He didn't know where he thought the denial, following by the threats, followed by the now even more-so incredibly useless bullying, were going to get him. He wanted to plead insanity. Claim that he wasn't responsible for his actions. He was a teenage boy with an underdeveloped brain trying to fit himself into a very tight social mold. In other words, he was an idiot.

And didn't those fall into the same categories anyways? Teenage boy = idiot. You didn't need to be good at math to figure that out. But Dave had gone above and beyond the bar to prove he was the shining example of adolescent stupidity. He never really meant it when he'd told Kurt he would kill him if he told anyone what happened. And honestly, he hadn't thought much of it after he did. And that was the biggest problem there. Dave hadn't thought much about his actions, or put a lot, if any, reflection into what he was doing.

After all, he was doing what seemed like the proper reaction to his undeveloped brain. And in that silly brain of his, he didn't see his actions as being that bad. He'd seen worse on TV anyways. And that's where he was at fault. That's where the entire American society was at fault. Believing that life is what we see on the television. That everything revolves around the simple mindless drama of the day to day goings of high school. And that in the end, everything will work out.

As kids, we're told we can be anything we want to be. Which is great and all. Dave wasn't saying it was wrong to instill hope and drive into children. But it would help if they reinforced that with work ethic instead of empty dreams. Told kids 'hey, it's more than just wishing. It's work', or more importantly, 'you're not special'.  
>And Dave wasn't being cold in thinking that. Kids in today's world, himself included, seemed to think they're all special. That they are all inclined to some sort of special privilege or treatment. And when they don't get the fantasy they see on TV, they feel they've been cheated somehow.<p>

Dave hadn't been cheated. Dave had a good family, plenty of good opportunities, and had been blessed to be born into a world that allowed him to pursue his dreams, should he be inclined to do the work. It took a lot time for Dave to realize that being gay wasn't like having some sort of handicap. Sure, it made his situation different, and in some cases, harder. But the reality of the fact was that he'd allowed himself to fall into this societal structure created for him by the dramatizations of television and the underdeveloped minds of teenagers.

Being gay in a small town middle-America sucked. But it wasn't the end of the world. Dave reminded himself of that every day.

So did he plan on, 'coming out'? No, not really. Chances were he'd wait until college, where he could walk in, and meet new people, and not lie. He'd just be himself from the start. No surprises. Then, when he started to feel comfortable with himself, when he finally got himself on solid ground, he'd tell his parents.

That was the plan.

And he'd forget all about Kurt Hummel...

…Okay, so maybe he wouldn't forget entirely. He would remember everything he'd ever learned from watching the young countertenor. He'd retain all that had transpired, good and bad, as a reminder of what he needed to do to be a better person. But, he would let go. He'd get over his strange, sad little crush, and would move on. Chances were, his first few boyfriends would more than likely resemble the young starlet. Twinks were is type, after all.

Not that he'd been limited to that. Yes, the recognition of his feelings for Kurt had been the catalyst of his dawning sexuality. But after he realized that he was, in fact, attracted to men, it was like his eyes opened. He looked around and suddenly, it was clear who and what he was. It was clear that he was gay. And it was clear that Sam Evans had one mighty fine ass.

But Kurt, he was different. He was special. He was... Kurt. Smart and witty. Bold, honest and kind. He was brave. He was forgiving. He wore his heart, and more importantly, his flaws on his designers sleeves, and said '_this is me_', '_this is who I am_'. And though he was never exactly humble when it came to praise, took any criticism with great humility.

He was Kurt Hummel. He was the one person Dave Karofsky never wanted to forget.

By now, Dave's hair was soaked. In fact, he was dripping, and he absently began to worry about the contents of his book-bag getting wet. He arched his neck up toward the sky once more, and in the distance, spotted the promise of white clouds, and clear skies. Dave kept moving.


	2. Chapter 2

He was going to be late. The first day of senior year, and he'd spent so much time dillydallying, lost in his own thoughts, he was going to be late. Mom and dad would be none-too-thrilled.

Just as he'd begun he accept his fate, the purring of an engine became loud in his ears, and the honking of a horn had him turning abruptly on his heels. A black Navigator. Lights on, windshield wipers moving steadily back and forth. The passenger side, back-seat window rolled down and out popped the head of one, Finn Hudson.

"Dude!" he called out, his neck arched down to avoid getting hit by the rain. "You're gonna be late, man, hop in!" He said. Dave didn't move at first. He knew this car. It was Kurt's.

"Sometime today, Karofsky! **We'd** like to get to school on time!" He could only see the top of Berry's head as she leaned over her boyfriend in the back seat, but that voice was unmistakable. Dave wasn't sure what to do. It had to be Kurt driving, didn't it? He couldn't see him through the windshield, but it was **his**car. Why would they pull over for him?

The car shift slightly, jolted into park, and the front passenger window rolled down. He saw a shadow begin to shuffle, and Kurt came into few, one eyebrow raised as his head tipped to the side.

"**Today**, David." He said. Dave shuffled toward the car, lifting his hand up to shield himself from the rain as if he'd just now realized he was being pelted with water.

"You get shotgun." Finn informed as he rolled up his window, nodding toward the seat ahead of him. Dave followed instruction, pulling the door open to see Kurt climbing back into the driver's seat, readjusting to buckle himself up again.

He was thankful, as he was fairly certain that gasp he emitted upon realizing he was seeing Kurt for the first time in three months was, in fact, silent. It took all his will power to shrug off the shock to his system (_those eyes, those lips, that skin, those damnably adorable pear hips_), and climb in nonchalantly.

"Good morning." Kurt chimed as Dave got in, dropping his wet back-pack on the floor between his legs. "Seat-belt." Kurt said pointedly as he shifted into drive. "It's a rule in my car." Dave nodded quickly, reaching up to buckle himself in as he mumbled,

"Thanks." Kurt's eyes were on the road, but he tipped his head slightly, mouth opening to respond, before he was cut short.

"You're quiet welcome. Though admittedly my vote was to let you receive a tardy, seeing as you in fact failed to determine how long it would take you to walk to school, but Finn did point out that it was raining, so I agreed it was only right to offer you a ride." Dave stared at Rachel Berry over his shoulder, taking in her all-too-bright eyes, opened wide as she spoke, her lips curving dramatically with every enunciation. The hand that wasn't intertwined with Hudson's moved around erratically, as though it would somehow help her illustrate her point.

Dave nodded.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." He murmured again. Rachel beamed.

"Are you excited for the first day of our senior year, Karofsky?" she asked, though didn't even pause to breath much less wait for a response, "I, for one, am exceedingly thrilled for what promises to be our most memorable year at McKinley high. I-"

Dave was startled when the once white noise that was softly whispering from the stereo was suddenly turned up to unfathomable volumes. His head whirled back to the front just as Kurt was pulling a hand away from the counsel. The young fashionista smirked cunningly back at Rachel in his rear-view mirror, pursing his lips together to suppress his laughter. A small hand suddenly darted up toward the front, which resulted only in upsetting Kurt.

"Nah-ah-ah! Seat-belt!" He howled, slapping her hand as it tried to penetrate the barrier of the front seat. Rachel leaned back with the thud and Kurt casually turned the music down, still grinning back at the young woman seated behind him. For a moment, she didn't say anything, but from the corner of Dave's eye, he could see her glaring daggers.

Finally, she sighed deeply, and all interruptions were forgotten,

"Dude, have you seen our game schedule yet?" Finn asked from behind him, hand reaching out to clasp around the top of Dave's seat. Dave swallowed hard, not realizing until then the nerves that had clotted up his throat. These exchanges were so normal. And Kurt wasn't even looking at him. He just kept starting forward, seemingly entranced by the roads and not even slightly deterred over the fact that Dave, whom Kurt opened loathed, was seated beside him.

"Y-yeah." Dave blurted, looking over his shoulder once more to glance at Finn. "We got moved up a division," he stated plainly.

"Oh, that's good isn't it?" Dave could have kicked himself for allowing his body to react the way it did to Kurt's light, feathery voice filling the compartment of the car. The young man tipped his head a little, as though to signal to his riders that he was also tuned into the conversation.

"Sorta." Finn mused. "It means we got better, but it also means we're going to be facing a whole butt-load of schools we never faced before." he explained, and cast a glance at Rachel, "Harder ones." Finn was another one that wore his heart on his sleeve. The concern laced thickly in his voice.

"You're worried it's going to be too much competition?" Rachel asked with dipped brows, her wide eyes locked on Finn, as though she could transmit her caring thoughts through them.

"Eh," Finn murmured, shrugging his shoulders lazily, apparently trying to show his lack of concern, but the sweaty palms he was running across his jeans said otherwise.

"Well I believe you have more than enough determination and strength to overcome whatever obstacles you might face." Rachel insisted, "Frankly, there's-"

"Williamsburg and North Henley's best players graduated last year, and Ridgeway's coach just retired." Dave cut in suddenly. Finn and Rachel looked up, and in the corner of his eye, Dave saw Kurt cast a glance his way, "The three biggest competitors in the division all lost some pretty big variables." He mused, absently picking at his fingernails. "Between you, Puckerman and Beastie, I'd say we're in good shape." For a moment, the cab of the car was quiet, then Finn huffed out a laugh behind him, and one of his hands came down for a large pat on Dave's shoulder.

"Hell yeah," He said, "And with you blocking bitches like that numb-nuts at Perry, I'd say we have a championship on our hands." He boasted. Dave laughed, if not for Finn's use of words, then Rachel's reaction to them.

"Finn! What sort of language is that?" she squealed, horrified by the strange vulgarity.

"No use fretting over it, Rachel dear." Kurt mused from the front seat. "It's only boy talk."

"Hn." The young brunette pushed out air through her nose, eyes wide with a roll as she apparently dismissed the comments, shaking her head as she sat back. Finn only laughed.

They pulled into the school parking lot only moments later, Finn and Rachel shuffling in the back seat as they tossed their hoods over their head and readied their umbrellas.

"Can you hold this for a sec?" Kurt asked quietly. Dave, who'd been turned toward the door, ready to hop out, plopped his back-pack down on the floor once more, reaching out to clasp his hand around Kurt's Lima Bean coffee. Finn handed Kurt's shoulder bag up to him, along with his umbrella, before quickly leaping out of the car with his girlfriend, door slamming behind him. Kurt shuffled to secure his bag on his shoulder, maneuvering his umbrella to his door in some hopes of opening it quick enough to save his hair from the rain.

He then cast his gaze up at Dave, and for the first time since junior prom, their eyes met. Despite hints of a summer tan, the grey sky and dark interior of the car cast blue and hazy shadows on Kurt's skin, making it appear cool and pale, and his eyes reflected hints of blue. Dave knew, they appeared a bit more blue on rainy days, and greener in the sun.

"So, does the jacket mean I'll be getting an escort to class?" Kurt asked casually. Dave blinked for a moment, trying desperately to process the words, and not think about the fact that they were sitting alone together, in Kurt's car.

Dave had apologized last year. He'd broke down some walls, and told Kurt how much he regretted what he did. Still, he felt compelled to do so again. Despite his lack of desire to rehash all of those memories, he just felt like it was something that needed to be reinstated.

"Kurt," Dave began, and though he did his best to hold his gaze, he found himself adverting his eyes to Kurt's iPod flashing on the counsel. "I just want to tell you how sorry I am about last year, and that I-"

"David," The larger boy sighed. How did he manage that? All Kurt did was say his name, hardly above a whisper, and he'd demanded Dave's attention almost immediately. Dave peered up, and Kurt offered a sort of weak smile, "It's a whole new year, David." he stated, as though that statement alone should say everything Kurt was trying to convey. "Let's let the past be in the past, and just move forward."

Move forward. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was something. Like spotting white clouds, and clear skies in the distance.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt did get that escort. Dave held his coffee, and though it made his heart beat thunderously in his chest, Kurt held up his umbrella for the two of them to share. For the first time, Dave had been too caught up in the moment to even think to see if anyone was looking. Of course, to Kurt it was just a common gesture.

And though Santana had insisted Bully Whips was a thing of the past, the vivacious Latino had also sported the jacket the first day of classes. By lunch, she'd confronted two seniors over pushing around freshmen, and with a snarky smile, told Dave it looked like they were going to have to open the club up for more members.

"Too many halls, too many nerds." she'd said before instructing him to get a sign-up sheet for the bulletin board. Honestly, though Dave had planned on taking some kind of initiative to keep the group going, he was thoroughly grateful Santana was back on board.

"I get why you're still doing it," Kurt's voice broke though Dave's thoughts, "But honestly," he said with a shrug, books nestled against his cardigan-clad chest, "I'm not too worried this year. Being a senior and all..." Dave didn't look right at the younger boy, still keeping a sharp eye out over his shoulder. And it was easier not to. The way his hair fell over his brows today was far too distracting.

"If you'd rather have Santana walk you around-"

"No, David, it's not that." Dave knew he was shuffling his feet. He willed himself to stop, but that only caused him to slip sweaty palms nervously into his pockets. Why did Kurt have to say his name like that, every time? When he'd stopped calling him Karofsky, it had been like a symbol of recognition to Dave. Like Kurt finally seeing him as a human, and not the monster he'd attributed that name to. But Kurt always used his full name. And the way it just sort of slid off the boy's tongue was just too much for McKinley's right guard. He loved the way Kurt said it, to the point where it haunted his dreams.

Kurt sighed heavily, turning to lead them down the hallway. "Really, don't you think it would be better for Bully Whips to focus their attention on some more needy cases?" He asked, pointedly eyeing the number of freshmen scurrying through the halls with fear painted thickly on their faces.

Dave stared down at him, brows knitted in thought. Yes, Kurt was probably right. But Dave wanted to say '_Honestly, you're the only one I care about_' or '_If something happened to you, I couldn't forgive myself_' and '_This is just a sad, sad excuse for me to be around you_'. He didn't say any of that though.

"We're going to start recruiting more people." he looked straight again, away from Kurt's imploring eyes. "If you think you're okay on your own, fine, but we'll make sure we have someone with you for the more, uh, hostile hallways." He stated firmly. Maybe it was for the better anyways. Hanging around Kurt all the time would only mess with his head, right?

A soft chuckle came from beside him, and Kurt smiled up at him. For a second, Dave froze, fiercely reminded of that moment 3 years ago, when Kurt graciously took back his locker belongings, and smiled up at Dave for the last time. It was strange, the way it made Dave's blood run cold and hot at the same time.

"Well, I suppose that means I'll only need you like, what? Three times a day?" Kurt inquired, brows high on his head. Of course, just as Dave had resolved that it would be best not to be around the smaller boy, Kurt would say something as undeniably alluring as that. Need him? Kurt would need him, Dave, around him? Dave knew reading into it the way that he did was over the top, but it was just so hard not too. It's what he _wanted_to hear. "Before English, before Glee and between Lunch and French?"

Dave didn't trust his voice to answer, so he nodded. Kurt nodded in return. "And you may as well walk to me History too, since we have it together." Again, Dave nodded, then stopped outside the French room,

"See you before History then?" He'd meant for it to sound like a statement, but his nerves had weakened his voice. Kurt nodded with a smile.

"See you later, David." God, it sounded so amazing.

"Later, Fancy."

Dave froze the second the endearment had left his lips. Granted, the term wasn't that insulting, but Dave had been known to use it as such last year, even if it meant something entirely different to him. Kurt's brows rose, and Dave held his breath, his brain working on rapid fire with an onslaught of prepared apologies.

But, Kurt smirked, rolled his eyes, then wiggled all five fingers in a wave before heading into the French room.

Dave was stunned still for so long, he was nearly late to class.

* * *

><p>It was two more periods between then and History. As Dave made his way through the halls, planning to stop at his locker before he picked up Kurt at his, he glanced quickly at the bulletin board. Seven names on the sign-up sheet. Lauren Zizes, &amp; "The Puckerman" being the first two, followed by two juniors he sort of recognized, Finn Hudson, a guy from the soccer team, and finally...<p>

Dave wasn't sure how to feel about seeing Azimio Adams' name on the list, and he seriously doubted his motives. If anything, he imagined it as a ploy to either gain some further credibility in the McKinley hallways, or use it as an opportunity to take advantage of those he was suppose to be protecting. Either way, it wasn't what the group was made for. Dave slowed his pace as he dwelt on the situation. How would he approach Az about it? He was sure the other boy would be honest about his prerogatives, but that didn't make confronting him about them any easier.

"Hey!" Dave looked up, startled by the familiar high voice, but more-so by the heated blush he felt creeping up his ears. Dave hadn't even realized Kurt knew where his locker was, and certainly wasn't prepared to find him leaning against it, waiting patiently for it's owner.

"Hey," he replied. That's when he noticed something rather different about Kurt. As oppose to the cranberry-colored cardigan he was sporting earlier, Kurt had now dawned a long-sleeve t-shirt beneath his New York Tee from last year. And his hair and been re-styled. Dave looked down at him darkly. "You got slushied, didn't you?" he asked. Kurt inhaled heavily, as if he was pushing off the weight of those words. His shoulders rolled up and he smiled nonchalantly.

"By juniors, no less." He said as he shuffled over to the next locker, freeing the space for Dave to get his things. Dave scoffed, turning the medal lock with unnecessary force, and dropping his books in with a thud.

"This fucking school..." Dave seethed. He turned to look at Kurt, prepared to insist that he escorted him to every class now, but the expectant stare that met him pushed the thoughts away. "What?" He asked nervously. Kurt stared a bit longer as surprise filtered into his eyes.

"You're not going to say anything about me being at your locker?" he asked. Dave knew he was blushing now. Well _of course_ he wanted to say something! How it seemed far too much like Kurt was waiting oh-so-sweetly for his boyfriend to come along. How cute he looked leaned up against the patterned doors, so small in comparison to the Letterman jackets that surrounded him. How badly Dave wanted to approach him, press him against his locker, and kiss him senseless as though they were no different from an ordinary, boy/girl couple. As if they **were**a couple.

Kurt tipped his head, smile faded as he analyzed Dave's face. "Because it could look bad you know, to your friends." Kurt said. _Ah-ha._Dave thought. This was something of a test. To see if Dave had changed at all. To see how he'd react.

Yes, it bothered Dave. He didn't want to be picked on for walking Kurt Hummel to classes every day. He didn't want to be called names when spotted carrying the smaller boy's mocha latte crap-a-chino, or whatever. He didn't want to hear about it when his friends saw the young starlet at his locker. But now, that image was burned into his brain. Kurt Hummel, waiting for him at **his **locker.

"Their problem, I guess." Dave said in a low voice, plucking his history book from the top shelf. Though he didn't turn to see, he could feel Kurt smiling at him. Damn, why did that have to feel so good?

"Cute photo." Kurt said suddenly. Dave dropped his books against his arm, eyes following Kurt's extended finger. Dave had never been known to decorate his locker that much. Honestly, most years he'd tossed a magnetic pencil holder up there and called it good. But last year he'd picked up a couple of locker magnets at a show with all these weird ass sayings on them, and suddenly he had more things to fill that wide open space with. Which ultimately resulted in a few band stickers, more magnates with stupid sayings, and a few photos.

Including the one Kurt was currently studying, from after the championship game last year. Himself, Az, Hudson, Puckerman, Chang, Abrams, Strado, Henderson, and a few other guys from the team, huddled in this big mass, screaming at the camera. Honestly, it was one of Dave's favorite.

"Oooh!" Kurt suddenly cooed, "I saw this one in Santana's room over the summer." He said, eyeing the photo of Dave and Santana at prom, pre-crowning of course. It was a good photo. Honestly, Dave had a lot of fun dancing with his pretend-girlfriend, and this photo was a testament to the very weird, but awesome relationship they had. She'd looped at arm around his neck, pulling his head down to rest against hers, forcing him to support them both from the way she tipped her body. She was grinning broadly as he laughed at her excitement.

It was a good photo.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she was trying to choke me there." he said, motioning to the arm around his neck. Kurt shook his head,

"No, this one." He said, fondly reaching out to touch the image in question.

_Oh_. Dave had almost not put that photo in there. Santana came over a lot over the summer for, as she said, '_lack of anything better to do'_. He'd been reading on back porch that afternoon, seated flat on the deck, sporting only shorts and a loose football t-shirt. She'd arrived looking as stunning as ever in her cute little ruffled-shirt ensemble, and like a good pretend-girlfriend, seated herself between his legs, tipping her head into the crook of his neck in order to properly distract him from reading.

His mom had, of course, spotted the cute gesture, and appeared with a camera. Santana had giggled warmly, nestled into Dave's arms, and smiled up at her. For whatever reason, she was absolutely glowing in that picture, completely content at being where she was. And that was something Dave understood. When it wasn't all a show, it was nice hanging out with Santana. She was funny, she was smart, and she understood. If there was any chance in the world Dave could ever consider being straight, it would be for Santana Lopez.

"I'm not saying this to be mean or bring anything up that's none of my business." Kurt said, eyes still glued to the photo. "But if I had this image to go off of, I'd say you guys looked like a real, genuine couple there." Dave frowned a bit. Not at Kurt's statement, but rather at the way his eyes gazed at that photo, taking in every detail, from Santana's pearly fingernails on his arm, to the few strands of hair Dave hadn't bothered to comb down.

Dave quickly shut his locker.

He then resolved to find a new escort for Kurt as soon as possible. The next day, Bully Whips had their first meeting. All the names on the list were instated into the club, with the exception of Azimio.

He never showed.

The next day, they made a list of the people that were currently on the roaster of needing escorts, and assigned members to certain hallways on their downtime. By Friday, Puckerman was Kurt's new shadow.

Though he knew it might annoy Kurt, Dave still hadn't expected to arrive at his locker at the end of the day only to find Kurt Hummel already there. He was once again leaned up against the locker - at a very impressive 75 degree angle - his books nestled at his chest as he inspected his fingernails with a furrowed brow.

Dave considered going home without his homework.

But he didn't. Kurt would only seek him out again. He may as well get it over with now. So with that in mind he approached the young countertenor, who noticed him the second he entered his peripheral vision. The boy straightened and his hip popped out to the side with such ease it was almost as though Kurt had practiced it. Dave knew he didn't. Diva just came naturally to him.

"Something I can help you with, Fanc-... Kurt?" Dave asked, trying his best to politely shoo the smaller boy aside as he reached for his locker. Kurt complied, but only after a moment's hesitation, coupled with a glare Dave didn't dare meet. The slender boy shuffled over, though just barely; still in very close proximity with McKinley's right guard. Dave knew this action was a result of the fact that his locker was surrounded by other jocks. For some reason his section of the alphabet was just littered with them, turning his corner of the hallways into a wall of red and white. Save for Fancy in his dark skinny jeans, black boots and green, buckley-jacket type of... what the hell was he wearing anyway? Were those tassels hanging off the zippers?

"Well?" Kurt's voice was suddenly resonating in Dave's ears, carrying a very distinct and painfully familiar bitch tone. Dave schooled himself, and eyed him skeptically.

"Well, what?" He asked nonchalantly. Kurt scoffed, popping his hip to the other side, eye brows curving comically. He stared at Dave for a long time, that snarky overtone slowly fading into something a bit darker. He opened his mouth, then hesitated, but only for a second. Apparently a second was enough though,

"Is it because of what I said about the photo?" By the total change in tone, that definitely wasn't what Kurt had planned on coming here to say. He probably had equipped himself with an onslaught of devilishly creative quips on the way over. In fact, he probably had a piggy bank in his mind, used only to store those clever, taunting insults meant only for Dave.

"What are you talking about?" Dave lied. Kurt's brows lifted again.

"The reason I spent all of today listening to Noah talk about his many sexual endeavors with Lauren Zizes." The young countertenor said with clear distaste. He shuttered a bit, causing Dave to give a little laugh. "That's long term trauma!" Kurt insisted, faking being put-out by Dave's laughter. It was Dave's turn to offer up an up-turned brow. To which Kurt paid no mind, "So I believe I deserve a dang good reason as to why you quit on me."

… Why did Kurt have to say it like that? _Quit on him?_ What did that even mean? Was Kurt insinuating that Dave was relinquishing from his unspoken oath to make amends for the indiscretions of his junior year? _Quit on him?_That made it sound so personal. Like Dave was doing so much more than just walking him through the hallways.

_Quit on him._

Of course Dave wanted to quit on him. Dave wanted to quit following him around day after day. Wanted to quit looking over his shoulder, watching for anyone even thinking of laying a hand on the younger senior. Wanted to quit pretending that he did all this in the interest of putting a stop to bullying.

He wanted to quit staring. To quit pining. To put a permanent end to this one sided affair. He didn't want to be smelling the boy in his clothes long after having dropped him off at his class. He didn't want to have that voice resonating in his ears, because his brain lingers on every word that leaves his perfect, pearly lips. He wanted to quit smelling him, to quit hearing him, to quit seeing him long after he shut his eyes at night.

He wanted to quit Kurt Hummel. To never think about him, to never love him, not for even one more day.

"David?"

…

But Dave knew, every time Kurt said his name, that he could never quit loving that boy.

"I'll get you someone new by Monday." Dave promised. Kurt's eye brow rose, but he gave a nod. He shifted his shoulder bag, moving to step away and back into the flow of afternoon hall traffic. But the smaller boy froze instantly when the sound of multiple deep, roaring laughs reached his ears. A hoard of jocks were making their way down the hall, forming a line spanning it's entire length. Dave heard Kurt inhale audibly beside him.

He instinctively reached out, bringing Kurt back to the safety of his side, hidden between the mass of his own body and his locker. Dave's entire body tensed, and he legs felt like stone as the baseball players approached. The jock on the end barely brushed Dave's back as he passed and the football player released a sigh.

He looked back to Kurt, only to find the boys' eyes were already locked on him. Wide, concerned, and curious. Large, blue eyes, looking up through naturally long lashes. Pretty lips were parted slightly, and his soft, porcelain skin was tainted pink. Dave inhaled, and immediately regretted it, breathing in everything that was Kurt.

He quickly stepped aside, out of Kurt's direct proximity, giving the boy space. Kurt seemed a bit shaken, but what Dave hated most about it was that he couldn't be certain if it was the band of jocks that had scared him, or Dave suddenly invading his personal space.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, heart sinking in his chest.

"Would you um..." Kurt's voice was small and coated in shame. His eyes cast back to the group of jocks, who'd stopped at the end of the hall to meet up with the rest of their buddies. Kurt's concern of making it safely out of the school was evident. Admittedly, Dave was happy to realize he wasn't the countertenor's source of fear this time around.

"Dude, c'mon. If you're gonna talk my ear off at least walk me out." Dave mused, pointedly slamming his locker shut and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Then, very slowly, Kurt smirked. But not in a cocky way, but rather appreciatively. Kurt turned on the ball of his foot, moving to walk alongside Dave.

"If you insist." Kurt mused pleasantly. Dave merely shrugged, bringing a smile to Kurt's face. As they exited the school, Kurt peered out into the daylight, eyes narrowing as he analyzed the sky. "Looks like it might rain." Kurt said distantly, descending the steps. Dave followed, but didn't turn toward the parking lot, making instead for the main entrance, planning to walk home. He stopped though upon realizing the click of Kurt's shoes were no longer on the pavement. He turned, eyes meeting Kurt's, whose bore that unreadable expression that made Dave so very nervous.

Kurt didn't seem to notice his discomfort though, and he inhaled heavily.

"You want a ride?" he asked, "Looks like it's going to storm soon."

With little more than a moment's thought, Dave nodded and moved forward, towards Kurt. Beyond the singer's soft hair that shifted slightly in the breeze and the small smile that grazed his lips, Dave absently noted the white clouds, and clear skies in the distance.


	4. Chapter 4

The next Monday was just like the last. Dreary skies and the promise of rain in the air. Dave sighed heavily, shrugging on his Letterman jacket and flipping up the hood of his sweatshirt beneath it. Though he'd been a little disappointed when the new Bully Whips members had demanded they retire the jackets and go for something a bit more subtle, Dave was happy to have an excuse to put on a heavier coat.

Thunder rumbled above him, and Dave began to walk at a speedy pace. He really needed to get a car. And a driver's license...

...and learn to drive.

It certainly wasn't that Dave didn't want to learn. Initially his parents had told him as long as he took the summer's driver's ed course, they'd help him out with finding and paying for his own transportation. But they had decided it was too much freedom for him following everything that happened junior year.

And in any case, his summer was too jam-packed for that anyway. On top of his usual involvement with the church's summer projects, he'd picked up a job in the Dietary department of the nursing home his mother worked at. In addition, he was taking summer tutoring courses. Making up for all those low grades.

Dave was actually relieved to go back to school for once. It meant no more church projects until November, no more evenings in the library with cranky college AP tutors trying to coast through their internship hours, and less time spent in front of a dish machine, cleaning up the remains of pureed chicken and returning the occasional dentures left on dinner trays.

He'd never admit it, but the first time he'd lifted a plate cover to find a pair of teeth sitting beside some mashed up beets, he'd squealed like a girl and practically flung the tray away.

Thunder clapped loudly over Dave's head and a few seconds later, the rain began to pick up. Though he didn't like the idea of being drenched in rain** and **sweaty when he got to school, he also didn't want to catch a cold either. Decision made, he started a steady jog, careful to keep his head lowered to avoid being pelted with water.

As he rounded the block, he stopped briefly, allowing a car to pass before he crossed the road. Once clear, he stepped down, onto to realize he'd misjudged a puddle for a pothole, and now had one foot fully submerged in water.

Peachy...

He drew back, returning to the curb and pulling his foot out of the water like something had bitten him. He hissed softly in dismay, already feeling the squishiness of his sock.

"Damnit.." He mumbled to himself. His cursings were interrupted though, when the sound of a swift break met his ears, and he looked up to see the car that had passed him going into reverse, backing up into the road.

A Navigator.

The window was already rolled down by the time Kurt had fully returned to the side road he'd just pulled out of, and he gave Dave a once over.

"Are you planning on standing there all day or are you gonna get in?" he said, failing to contain the smirk that played over his lips. Amusement flickered in the boy's eyes, and Dave sighed to himself over the sheer beauty of the expression, unconsciously shifting his book-bag on his shoulder. He nodded, rounding the front of the car and hurriedly prying open the passenger side door.

"You ought to invest in an umbrella." Kurt suggested as he rolled up his window. Dave dropped his book-bag between his legs as he climbed into Kurt Hummel's car for the third time. The drive home Friday has been much like their drive in Monday; with Rachel Berry doing most of the talking. Not that it'd been a problem. Finn had listened attentively - well, as attentive as Finn Hudson could - while Kurt nodded and mused at Rachel's bantering.

The countertenor had dropped off Dave first, getting to his house without any directions, which had thoroughly surprised Dave. He considered making a stalker joke, but realized at the last second how incredibly inappropriate that would be.

Dave now peered over his shoulder as he settled into the familiar seat, and was surprised to find the back seat vacant.

"Where's Hudson and Berry?" he asked. Kurt blinked a couple of times, processing Dave's words before nodding and throwing the car into drive.

"Seat beat." He commanded, "Finn usually drives himself in, but the alternator went on his car last week." Kurt explained, only moving forward after hearing the clicking sound of Dave's seat belt. "Our parent's argue that it would save on gas if we drove together," Kurt mused, "But he drives Rachel to and from school, and her dad's don't get home until 5." As if Kurt's suggestive tone wasn't amusing enough, the waggling of his eyebrows forced a hearty laugh from Dave. To which Kurt smiled.

They pulled out onto the main drag, disfigured headlights of oncoming cars appearing all around them as the rain drummed melodically against the roof.

"So how are your classes this semester?" Kurt leaned back in his seat, reaching for his coffee. He took a little sip, hesitantly inching it toward his lips in fear of burning himself. Dave watched his tongue dart out, then retreat quickly. Too hot.

"They're okay." Dave replied. "Lots of classes with Hudson actually." Kurt mused beside him.

"He was saying your guys' gym class is like, nothing but jocks." Dave nodded with a small huff.

"Yeah," he affirmed, "Second day in and Beastie's already trying to move kids to different classes." He paused a moment as he felt a yawn come on. "S'just never a good idea to put the hockey players and football kids together in one room, ya know?" He said with a laugh. As they came to a red light, Kurt glanced over at him.

"You still play for both teams, don't you?" Dave open his mouth to respond, but held back when Kurt suddenly flushed red, and began stammering, "Oh God, I-I mean... no double-entendre intended, I swear!" he said hastily, then forced a nervous laugh to rise from his chest. Dave just blinked for a moment.

…

_Oh. _

Dave coughed uncomfortably before replying.

"Yes to the question, no to the entendre." Kurt was quiet for a moment. Dave felt his palms become sweaty and he fought the desperate urge to seek out his hoodie pocket.

"So... how to you handle being in the middle?" Kurt's voice was soft, careful. Dave didn't like where this was going.

"S'tough." He finally said. "I like being on the football team because … well I guess it's easier," he was trying to use his words carefully, "People like you more if you're on the football team. But I like being on the hockey team because... well it's what I like. Better than football, I guess." Dave inhaled deep, and stared ahead, though he knew Kurt was taking quiet a few glances his way. "Football team doesn't get why I even like hockey, and the hockey team doesn't get why football is so important to me." Dave cast a timid glance Kurt's way, and upon locking eyes, the countertenor nodded in acknowledgement.

"Well," Kurt said softly, "I know you might feel like you've gotta choose between them ... but, I don't think you should have to, as long as you're happy." Dave gave Kurt a curious stare, rather surprised by his words.

"That's not quite the tune you were signing last year." He blurted out, a little more direct than he intended. But Kurt nodded, none-the-less.

"I know," he said. His hands adjusted on the wheel, loosening their grip only to re-tighten again, and he inhaled deeply as he spoke. "And I'm sorry about that." He kept trying to look over at Dave, but driving made that a bit difficult. Frankly, Dave was thankful for that fact. "I just assumed that I knew everything about what it means to... like hockey," he smiled softly, "but I don't. And I realize that now. But if you ever want to talk about hockey, you know I'm always willing to listen."

Dave couldn't help it. It started with just one soft chuckle, then he had to bring his hand up his mouth to muffle the laughs rising in his chest. He looked up at Kurt, seeing first the concern in his eyes. But upon realizing his passenger was thoroughly amused, Kurt laughed softly in return, his cheeks tinting pink.

"This is a _terrible _fuckin' metaphor." Dave blurted, and Kurt broke out in a broad smile, his head ducking down, suddenly becoming bashful of his comments. "Like seriously," Dave continued, "Really, terrible." Kurt nodded vigorously.

"Yes, yes it is." He said. Their laughs were quiet and soft, but suddenly the compartment of that car felt warm and safe. So very secure in comparison to the storm rumbling outside. "Ya know," Kurt suddenly said, "I don't believe I've ever actually been to a McKinley hockey match." Dave scoffed at that, blatantly faking a sense of disgust.

"Man, you think I'm good at football?" the right guard boasted, "You oughta see me tear up the rink. I'm a fuckin' animal when it comes to hockey-" Dave had planned on continuing his bragging, but a sudden outburst of laughter from the young man beside him silenced his rant. Kurt's face had turned a soft red and he held out a hand in Dave's direction, turning it up in a 'stop' motion.

"Oh Lord, my brain is still on the metaphor." he choked through his laughs, hand flying to his mouth to suppress the noise. Dave couldn't help smiling. This exchange was so easy. Talking to Kurt, hearing him laugh. It was an amazing feeling. So casual and relaxed. The conversation just came so naturally, and the joking came so naturally. It was just...nice. Nice talking to Kurt like they were actually friends. Nice -

_Oh_.

_"Tear up the rink" … "animal" … "hockey". _

Dave swallowed thick, heat spreading over his cheeks and ears, and he coughed, unsure whether to freak out or laugh. Looking over at Kurt though, who was smiling ear to ear, eyes lined with moisture and glistening... Dave decided on the latter.

"Dude, you're a total perv." Dave mused. Kurt blanched, his mouth falling open comically and he sat up straight in his seat, staring at Dave with both shock and amusement.

"I am no such thing!" he bellowed, trying desperately to glare at Dave whilst turning into the school parking lot. Dave just grinned.

"I'm just messin' with ya, man." he said. Kurt rolled his eyes, but still smiled as he found them a parking spot. They unbuckled, and Dave lifted his book-bag.

"Can you hold this for me for a sec?" Kurt held his cup up, leaning over the center council to reach behind his seat in search of his shoulder bag. Dave set down his book-bag and took the coffee cup. In an attempt not to think about just how close Kurt was leaning to him, he looked down at the covered lid, inhaling softly.

"What's in this?" he asked conversationally. Kurt pulled his shoulder bag and umbrella up into his lap, but remained leaned against the center council, turning his attention to the cup in question. He smiled

"It's got caramel in it." he said, "Go ahead, try it." He turned to his umbrella, tipping it upside down and angling it toward the door.

Dave stared down at the cup, a bit more accusingly than he intended. _Try it_, his brain repeated. Put his lips on the same little opening Kurt's tongue had tentatively flicked over just 10 minutes ago? Dave was momentarily concerned he'd get the same shock to his system he'd had in that locker room last year, when he …. well you know.

But that was silly. It was just coffee. He pushed the butterflies in his stomach aside and leaned forward to take a sip. The warm liquid rolled over his tongue, and he looked down into the cup's contents, licking his lips to savor the taste.

"S'pretty good." he said, an air of surprise in his voice. _See_, his brain said, _now that wasn't so hard_! Dave looked up to Kurt with a smile, only to feel a rush of fluttering in his stomach and heat rise to his cheeks. Kurt blinked softly, tipping his head, seemingly unaware of their extremely close proximity and just how sweet he looked, starting up at Dave through those damn lashes of his. The smaller boy smiled.

"One of my favorites!" he chimed, then leaned back, completely unaware of the chaos he'd just stirred within his counterpart, and reached for the door. Kurt came around the car, holding out his umbrella for them both. "Thank you." He said, taking the cup from Dave as the taller boy hopped out of his car, slinging his back pack over his shoulder.

Dave sucked air sharply into his lungs, willing himself to move and fighting desperately not to think about the fact that the sweet caramel taste on his tongue was probably what Kurt's lips tasted like at that very moment.

"Finally, I've been waiting for you out here for like twenty minutes!" Kurt was startled when Lauren appeared at his side, and he stared up at her with a confused expression. Dave sighed in relief.

"Looks like your escort's here, Fancy. Thanks for the ride. Catch you later!" Dave blurted all at once, then turned sharply to jog into the school, leaving behind a very stunned Kurt Hummel.

* * *

><p>The next day was rainy too. Dave sighed as he trudged his way down the sidewalk. It was much colder than yesterday. Though the weather man promised tomorrow would be rain free, right now the sky was pouring down buckets that seemed nothing short of endless. The sidewalks were starting to flood, and Dave couldn't hold back a shiver.<p>

"You know David, instead of getting half drenched everyday, you could just wait for me to come get you, hm?" Dave shivered again, but this time not from the cold. He turned slowly, trying to bury the tightening his chest at the sight of Kurt, staring with an amused expression from the warmth and safety of his car. Maybe it was time for that stalker joke... "**Today**, David!"

Dave rounded the car, pulling open the passenger door and sliding in before dropping his book-bag on the floor. Kurt looked over at him, eyes falling down to his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dave got there first.

"Seat belt." He affirmed as he reached behind him to grab the buckle and lock it in place. Kurt smiled at him, and pulled back out onto the road.

"Here." Kurt said, reaching down and plucking his Lima Bean coffee from the center council before offering it to Dave. The larger boy didn't grab it right away, staring at him curiously. "It's for you." Kurt said in a tone that implied that should have been obvious. Dave glanced down at the council, now noticing not one, but two Lima Bean cups. "You said you liked it, didn't you?" Kurt asked.

Dave gingerly took the cup from his hands, a bit startled. So Kurt had not only fully planned to pick him up, but had gotten him a coffee as well, assuming that he would, in fact, be picking Dave up.

"Y-yeah." Dave blurted, finally finding his voice. "Thanks." Kurt hummed, smiling as though he were quite pleased with himself. He gave a big airy sigh before he spoke again.

"So Lauren didn't work out for me." he stated firmly. Dave only gave him a quick glance before returning to carefully opening the small plastic lip of the coffee to let it cool.

"Oh?" He asked, "Why not?" Kurt huffed at that, and his right hand flew into action, moving erratically as he spoke.

"And here I thought Noah was bad. Lauren is ten times worse." As they came to a red light, Kurt turned in his seat to give Dave a very serious look. "That's long term damage, David. My health is at risk here." Dave laughed softly in his chest, though dually made a point not to put any visuals to whatever it was Lauren could have told Kurt. He nodded, setting down his coffee where Kurt had it sitting.

"Well, we can't have that." he mused. He lifted up off the seat, reaching into his back pocket for his cell phone. Dave could feel Kurt watching him as he typed, but opted not to acknowledge it.

"That's an old phone." Kurt commented. Dave shrugged absently.

"It works though. I don't really have any good reason to waste the money on a smart phone." He said as he typed. Kurt hummed again.

"I got the iPhone last year, and now I can't live without it." he said, "Though I can't say it's for anything other than shear convince."

Dave's phone sounded with a reply. He flipped it up, and nodded approvingly.

"You know Avery Herbach?" he asked. Kurt's slender brows curved in and he tipped his head in thought.

"From the soccer team?" he asked. Dave nodded, and stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"Said he'll meet you at the front doors." Kurt didn't respond at first, then quickly turned his eyes back to the road.

"Oh. Okay. Gotchya." He said. The rest of the ride they discussed cell phones and Kurt drove a little over the speed limit.

* * *

><p>Wednesday morning was just as the whether man promised. Though the roads were still damp, the sky was clear, with only a few stray clouds lingering overhead. The breeze was still a bit chilly, but areas of sun indicated that it would probably warm up by afternoon. It was a nice morning for a walk into school.<p>

But Dave wasn't walking. No, he was waiting idly on his front steps, kicking himself with doubt. Kurt had made it blatantly clear that he'd intended to pick Dave up yesterday, and told him rather forwardly that he ought to just wait for Kurt to pick him up the following day. But, they'd never affirmed anything, and Dave didn't even have Kurt's cell phone number to just call and find out.

So he was taking a pretty big chance here of being awfully late. If Kurt didn't show, Dave would have started his walk a good 20 minutes after the time he'd normally leave, which would make him miss homeroom. Which is a tardy. Three tardys, and you get a detention. One detention on Beastie's team and you have to do double laps for a week. Did Kurt realize how many extra laps that was?

Dave sighed. If he left now, he might be able to make it in before his homeroom teacher got all the way through roll call. She always went through it twice (which really is incredibly kind of her). His class had students I through N; Karofsky was the 7th name on the roster. So if he ran...

Dave was yanked out of his thoughts by the sounds of an engine. He looked up and sighed in relief at the familiar black navigator.

"Morning, David!" Kurt chimed the minute Dave opened the door. Dave smiled at him, sliding into the seat and dropping his book bag on the floor.

"Hey," He said, reaching behind him to grab the seat belt. Kurt just barely followed the movement. "Thanks for the ride." he said as he settled in. "I wasn't sure if I was suppose to wait or not." Kurt furrowed a brow.

"I told you yesterday I'd come pick you up. Makes no sense for you to walk halfway there." Kurt said pointedly. Dave was tempted to mention that it also made no sense why Kurt was so willing to drive him into school in the first, but Dave wasn't willing to knock a good thing.

If was it good. Dave wasn't quite sure of that yet.

"Yeah, I know." Dave replied with a shrug, "But I wasn't sure." he repeated. "And I didn't realize until like, 5 minutes before I had to go that I never really checked to make sure it was cool with you." Kurt just stared at him for a moment.

"So you waited then? Why didn't you..." Again, Dave just gave a shrug, but he attempted to keep his head down as his cheeks began to warm. Well when Kurt said it, it sounded rather silly... "Oh, you don't have my number do you?" Dave looked up to see Kurt's open palm and expectant eyes. After a short period of hesitation, he took out his phone, and handed it to Kurt, who in turn handed his over to Dave.

Dave stared at the small contraption for a second.

Okay, now there were a lot of thoughts going through his brain at that moment. The first being, '_Holy shit, Kurt's giving me his number_.' Then second being '_Holy Shit, he wants __**my**__ number_.' and the third, and final being '_Holy shit, I don't know how to work an iPhone_'. Of course Kurt had programmed his number in Dave's cell at a remarkable speedy pace while Dave was still fumbling with the sliding menus on the touch screen.

Kurt laughed softly, leaning over the center council. Dave stiffened the second the smaller boy entered his personal space, but he tried not to let it be noticed, continuously moving his fingers along the screen.

"Not that one, the next one." Kurt said from beside him. His voice was soft and light. The kind of tone where you can just hear him smiling as he spoke. Dave swallowed hard, still trying to maneuver the screen. Again, Kurt laughed beside him.

Suddenly, a small hand reached over,

"Here, let me help." Kurt said. For a moment, the brush of Kurt's fingers against his took him back to the 9th grade, when instead of a car council, a desk sat between them and instead of a cell phone in his hands, there was a No. 2 pencil. Kurt flipped the screen, typing in "David" into the top panel, then handing it over to Dave. "Just type your number here." He said. Dave nodded, but found himself shutting his eyes for a second upon realizing he could feel Kurt's breath and damning all laws of nature at the turning of his stomach and the incessant tingling in his pants.

Dave typed his number in, then put the phone back into Kurt's hands. His perfect, soft hands. Kurt smiled as he eased back into his seat, saving the number himself and putting the phone back in it's holder. He buckled himself back in, and backed out of the drive way.

"I got some cinnamon in it this time." Kurt suddenly said, reaching down to lift the small plastic lid of his coffee cup to let it cool. "I think you'll like it." Dave looked down at the two cups. Why did that get to him so much? Why did he feel his body heat up and his stomach twist and his skin tingle? It was just coffee. Just something Kurt did. It didn't mean anything...

Again, Dave went to reply, but was cut off. "I might be a little later tomorrow. Carole needs me to run an errand for her." Kurt said pointedly. "Also, Avery didn't work out."

* * *

><p>Apparently Avery had been too obnoxious, constantly bouncing his soccer ball around as they went down the hallway.<p>

On Thursday, Kurt showed up with peppermint in their coffee, and the news that the junior escort, Smush (to be honest, Dave had no clue what the guy's real name was), also didn't work out. Kurt hadn't given a reason, just a look. A look that said, well, that he didn't really have a reason, and that he didn't need one.

Friday morning Dave got up early, stepping out on the front porch just as his dad pulled out of the drive. He sat down on the steps, folding his hands in front of him and cupping them together to preserve their warmth. The right guard didn't really know what to make of all this. Kurt had always been a little weird (what with the gaga outfits and all. Dave had even seen him in the halls with a blond wig on once) but, this was different. Unfamiliar. Weirder.

Puckerman, Lauren, Avery, Smush...all of them Kurt turned away. Dave had no doubt today would bring a similar story about the other junior. There was still Finn who, despite having his attention focused on Rachel, would most definitely escort Kurt if asked. Kurt certainly couldn't turn him down. And there was still Santana.

Dave pulled out his phone, scrolling down to her name "3 3 3 Santana 3 3 3", which for the record she programmed in herself. Along with picture of her puckering her lips and tossing up the peace sign at the camera.

Dave actually like that photo.

With a sigh, he typed:

'_Kurts probably gonna ask for another switch. You good to take him today?' _

A moment later he received a reply:

_**'And why exactly cant u do it?' **_

_'Conflicting schedule.'_

_**'Pft, Eres un mentiroso, mi amigo." **_

_'¡No soy un mentiroso!'_

_**'Parada. No puedes aprender español. Estás en la clase de francés. Y todos sabemos por qué ... :)'**_

_'Puta'_

_**' ;-* '**_

_'So can you?"_

_**'No."**_

_'Why not?'_

_**'...Porque, Estás necesita esta.'**_

_'... I think it'll only make it worse.' _

_**'Thats a chance i'm willing to take :)' **_

_'I'll ask Finn then.'_

She didn't respond for a minute.

_**'No you wont'**_

Damn her.

_**'Te quiero, Papi! 3333 ' **_

_'Sí sí, te quiero, Mamasita...'_

Dave snapped his phone shut just as Kurt pulled into the drive. He hoisted himself up and made his way over, returning Kurt's smile as he passed the front of the car. Pulling the passenger seat open, he was greeted with the scent of coffee as he slid into the seat, dropping his book-bag on the floor.

"Just a shot of vanilla today." Kurt said as Dave buckled himself in. Both plastic lips were already flipped open, and the coffee cooling. Dave gave a sigh as he settled into his seat.

"How's about I pay for coffee next week?" he offered. Admittedly, he'd begun to feel a bit guilty. Coffee was expensive after all. Kurt regarded Dave with a blank stare, then smiled softly.

"Sure!" He said. "I'll pick you up at a quarter after then?"

Dave considered this. Honestly, he hadn't really factored in that he'd have to actually go to the coffee shop in order to pay. It's not like Dave hadn't been there before. It was one of the few places in town that stayed open all night. But going there, with Kurt? Just the thought made nerves and excitement storm through Dave's insides. He'd be so out of his element...

But Dave opted not to dwell on that, and nodded.

"Sounds good." Kurt nodded in return, tossing the car in reverse.

"So." he said as he alternated between mirrors. "Which Bully whip do I get today?" Dave waited until he'd backed out before answering, locking eyes for a moment as Kurt turned back around. Then he shrugged.

"Looks like your stuck with me, Fancy." He said, leaning back comfortably in his seat. "'less you got a problem with it." He offered up a toothy grin. Kurt looked over at him with a smile.

"I think I'll manage, somehow." He said, tossing the car into drive, and after moment of a shared laugh, they began to move forward.

The ride to school was pleasant. Kurt rolled down his windows on the way, and began to hum softly to himself.

On Sunday, Dave would text Kurt, complaining over _still_ having "Blue Skies" stuck in his head.


	5. Chapter 5

"But it's raining out."

"Maybe he should have watched the weather before the left the house."

"No one's talked to him like, all summer. Not even Az."

"It's because he's with Santana. She's his first girlfriend isn't she? That's what happens with first relationships. People get so involved in their significant other they sort of forget about the rest of the world. It's nothing to get worked up over!"

"I really think it's more than that. Either way though, he's … different now. I mean even at the end of last year, he was trying to be different. I think he's really sorry about what happened."

"And I'm all for redemption of forgiveness, but that doesn't excuse what he did, and at the end of the day, Kurt's safety and needs are **our **first priority."

"We're picking him up." Kurt had heard both sides of the argument from his back seat like having two little opposing voices on either shoulder. Finn and Rachel has spent the better half of a minute stating their cases as Kurt eased his car to the shoulder of the road, driving at like 3 mph in order to keep a good distance behind Karofsky without being noticed.

"Kurt, you shouldn't feel obligated to do this. I get what Finn's saying but your feelings come first-"

"It's fine Rachel." Kurt said in a breathy tone. "I understand what you're saying, but frankly, I'm over it. I think we should at least offer him a ride." Kurt didn't dare glance in his rear-view mirror. He could feel Rachel's worried eyes staring holes into the back of his head.

"Kurt-"

"My car, my decision, Rachel." Kurt hadn't meant to snap at the dear girl, but he was a little snippy today. He'd been irked when Finn and Rachel had crawled into the backseat together like Kurt was just some chauffeur for them. But he'd bitten his tongue, supposing if the tables were switched he'd have wanted to sit beside his boyfriend as well.

Then they'd seen Karofsky. The shiny red coat and very un-teenager like build was hard to miss, after all. Finn had hesitantly asked if maybe, just maybe, they should offer him a ride. Rachel had quickly objected on Kurt's behalf. They agreed Dave has seemed to be doing a lot of changing, but Rachel argued that interacting with McKinley's right guard might _"have a negative impact on Kurt's emotional state"_. But Finn had disagreed, stating that Dave had escorted Kurt around school plenty at the end of last year, and often times they'd walked alone, just the two of them. Dave had been nothing but civil, and Kurt hadn't been traumatized. Kurt dismissed the fact that the two were holding a conversation about him, while in his presence, as though he weren't there, opting to instead address the situation in his own head.

Though it wasn't something Kurt would share with the general public, he had thought a lot about Dave over the summer. About the bullying, the kiss, the confrontation. About the threats and the expulsion. The apology and Bullywhips, and Prom. In fact he thought about it so much he'd sent Dave a facebook friend request (since his plot to steal his phone number from Finn's phone had failed on numerous occasions. If his stepbrother did have Dave's number, it wasn't saved as such, and Kurt never had a sufficient amount of time to do a clean sweep of his contacts during the 40 seconds he left the sofa to pee).

Dave accepted it five days later. Kurt had been pleased, fully intending to send him a long, detailed private message with some of his summer musings. But he'd, of coarse, done a proper facebook profile stalk first. His findings, however, had greatly deterred him. Though he wasn't surprised to see he and Santana were still 'together', he was surprised by the dismal amount of activity on his page.

Being as popular as he was, and seeing as his friends were just as addicted to social networking as the rest of the American teenage population, you'd think Dave would've jumped on the ban wagon. But the right guard hardly ever updated his status. He had virtually nothing on his profile in the way of interests outside of what people would immediately gather by seeing him in the hallways: Football, Hockey. If people commented on his page, he'd respond a couple days later. He was tagged in a few photos from Azimio's birthday, but apparently he didn't stay long enough to get sloshed with his friends. Kurt had suddenly felt like facebook was too impersonal of a place to be discussing such topics.

Not that Kurt had something huge to dish or anything. Really all Kurt wanted to do was ... well, apologize. The first time he'd been compelled to do so, it had been after one of his many recollections of prom. Kurt was now in the mindset that he shouldn't have been pushing so hard for Dave to come out. He realized it was selfish of him. At the time, he'd been embarrassed and scared and wanted the attention off of him. He didn't want to have to be the brave one for once. It was someone else's turn.

But that had been so much to ask of Dave. And in hindsight, perhaps if Kurt hadn't said anything, if he'd just kept his mouth shut, Dave would have danced with him. That's something Kurt thought a lot about, actually. Dave had descended the steps with him. Gone out onto the floor with him. Faced him. Kurt's brain was in a fog at the time, but looking back now, it really seemed likely Dave was intending to go through with it. And imagine what that action would have said. Sure, Dave could have chosen that moment to come out of the closet, face the world and come to Kurt's defense. Whatever. But he could have also just danced with him. Just said '_See, it's no big deal. He's just gay_'. And that would have been something. But no, Kurt had to push. Had to run his mouth.

God, how he regretted that.

The next thing he wanted to apologize for was the confrontation. When he'd contacted Blaine about the sudden kiss, the dapper young man had, of course, offered his help in any way Kurt could possibly need it. Kurt hadn't known what to do. He wanted to address it, obviously, but had no inkling as to how. He mentioned cornering him before last period, and Blaine had thoroughly objected the idea.

_"I understand you want to offer your help. This guy is confused and obviously distraught, but you don't know what he'd capable of. You shouldn't be doing this alone, and you certainly shouldn't be putting yourself in an isolated situation with him."_

Kurt had agreed. Because Blaine was right. Kurt didn't know Karofsky. For all he knew, the guy could totally snap, and if he and Kurt were alone, the larger boy could turn his anger on on him and no one would be there to stop it. However, even with Blaine on board, the Warbler still insisted on a public setting, because '_really Kurt, like the two of us could take him_'. Blaine would only concede to a private setting if Kurt brought along some of his larger male friends from Glee, and at that point, Kurt was very oppose to letting anyone else in on the situation.

He'd never told Blaine, but a part of him regretted confiding in him. Not that Blaine had made a bad choice, but it was no wonder Dave reacted the way he did. Two gay guys, one he'd never even met, cornering him in a highly populated staircase, demanding answers and vocalizing the trials of being gay.

If Kurt could go back, he would have taken his chances, and confronted Karofsky on his own. Would it have been a stupid decision? Yes. But Kurt so wish he'd done it.

Which led him to another thought. A much more sensitive thought.

What if he'd just let Karfosky kiss him? Or at least said something instead of just expecting the larger boy to explain. Of course, Kurt believed his shock was totally justified. But when he'd pushed Dave away, he'd expected answers, not for the boy to run off like he did.

Once that question had entered his brain though, Kurt couldn't get it out. What if he'd let Dave kiss him? How different would things have played out if instead of shoving him away, Kurt had used the hands once pinned between them to grip onto Dave's shirt. If the palms that had been against Kurt's cheeks would have fallen to his biceps, pulling him in closer, more intimately against Dave's body as he went in for the second kiss. And Kurt would have kissed back. The passion he'd experienced that first time would be rejuvenated, and brought back in tenfold as Dave suddenly became bold, kissing him desperately. Hungrily, like a starving man.

And with his back against the lockers, Kurt would be surrounded by Dave, but not trapped. No, for those few seconds the entire world would just dissolve, to only consist of one another and the electricity passing between them that was completely undeniable. Kurt's hands would snake up Dave's chest to his neck, and his fingers would intertwine themselves with those short, messy curls. He'd cup his hands around those powerful shoulders, up and down those arms, and Dave would whimper like he had before. That small, needy little whimper that made Kurt's insides flutter and when it filled his mouth, Kurt wouldn't be able to help himself from pushing away from the locker and pressing himself against Dave's body.

And it would drive Dave mad, and his hands would suddenly fly into action, leaving the smaller boy's arms to explore the arch of his back and the curve of his hips. He'd touch Kurt, as though if he didn't know every inch of his body, he'd just die. And when they broke apart, Dave wouldn't hesitate again. The clicking sound of their lips disconnecting and reconnecting would fill Kurt's ears, only to be broken by the apology that would spill from Dave's lips right then, rather than months down the road.

"I'm so freaking sorry, Kurt." He'd say between kisses. One hand would rise, and his thumb would graze Kurt's cheek and his watery hazel eyes would study Kurt's dazed blue ones. "I'm so sorry for what I did to you." And then he'd kiss him, again and again until Kurt's heart retched and he was putty in Dave's hands. And Dave would ask for forgiveness. He'd ask for help. Tell Kurt he didn't understand why this was happening or what he was feeling. Tell Kurt he didn't know what to do.

And instead of the confrontation, and the threats and expulsion. Instead of transferring, Kurt would stick around, and help Dave. Let him know he was not alone, and provide an ear and advice when he needed it. And eventually Dave would come to accept himself, and he and Kurt would be okay. Better than okay, because Kurt wasn't just Dave's attempt to understand his sexuality. No, Dave had feelings for him, and over the course of the year, they'd become close, and Kurt would come to understand Dave. And they'd be friends, and Kurt would fall in love with Dave instead of Blaine...

And that's when Kurt decided not to send that facebook message.

But when Kurt saw Dave walking in the rain on the first day of school; when he heard Finn voice his concern over Dave's lack of social activity over the summer; when he realized he'd definitely forgiven Dave for what he'd done and it was time Dave did the same, he decided then it was necessary for him to apologize. And if he could, offer some sort of help, if Dave wanted. If he didn't, that was okay too.

And things went surprisingly well. For the first time, Kurt was so thankful to have Finn bring up football. And despite her worry for his well-being, Rachel had been respectful. And right there, in his car, Kurt was given an opportunity to get the ball rolling. To pave the way for what he hoped would be some sort of recovery process for Dave. The larger boy had moved to apologize for a second time, and Kurt had stopped him, assuring him it was time to move past all that.

He knew he didn't want to delve into a full-fledged conversation over it, both because of their lack of time and because he didn't feel it was an appropriate way to go about it. Kurt wanted Dave to believe him. He wanted Dave to believe it was okay to move past everything that happened last year and focus on his own needs and troubles now. But he didn't want to insult him either.

Without realizing it, he'd formed a plan in his brain to build some kind of friendship with Dave. Open himself up to the larger boy, so when he did apologize, Dave would know it was sincere. And he wouldn't push him anymore to come out. If fact, if he didn't want to talk about it at all, that was fine. Kurt was done pushing. He'd once told Dave that while he didn't believe in denying who you are, but he didn't believe in outing either. He intended to stand by that statement.

Initially, he hadn't wanted to use Bullywhips as a vehicle for this plan. He wanted Dave to _want _to get to know Kurt. To recognize him as a person he could, at the very least, hold a civil conversation with. But it seemed despite his protests, Dave genuinely wanted to be escorting Kurt around. Kurt just couldn't decide if it was because he felt it was his obligation to or not. And suddenly this whole scheme had gotten three more layers of complicated.

Then Kurt went and made that stupid comment about that photo. The photo he'd seen during an overnight glee-only get together over the summer. He'd had his fair share of wine that night and had meandered upstairs in search of a bathroom. On the way back, he'd realized he'd tucked his shirt in all kinds of wrong, and ducked into Santana's room to adjust it. After putting himself back together as best he could, he did a sweep in her vanity mirror, only to spot one photo sitting on it's lonesome in the corner.

Most of her photos were posted to a big board above her dresser, along with her favorite song lyrics, newspaper clippings from when her relatives were in the police reports, and other things of …. that nature. This one wasn't though. Kurt leaned in for a closer look, only to be very surprised at what he saw. And...a little pissed.

Who the hell did Dave think he was, looking all hetero, and normal, and oddly attractive... they both looked so dang happy. Kurt then had the sudden realization that Santana was happy because she was clueless to the fact that she was dating a gay man and being led on, and Dave was happy because his secret was being given concrete support. And that, well, it made Kurt absolutely sick with anger!

For whatever reason, out of all the boys Santana had been with over the years she had settled on Dave. They'd been together for nearly half a year now. _Half a year! _That's a freaking lifetime in high school! And honestly, Kurt had thought Santana would drop Dave like a hotcake after prom. Dave had told Kurt their dating was only a part of a scheme put together by the vivacious Latino in order to win prom queen. But now, that didn't seem to be the case. They were still together, and according to Brittney, Santana spent a lot of time at the Karofsky's.

Kurt was just plain appalled. How could Dave lead her on like that? And how could Kurt be expected not to say something? Keeping Dave's secret was one thing, but what if his secret was hurting someone outside of himself? What then? How long would Dave keep this charade up?

Mrs. Santana Karofsky.

Kurt decided that sounded just plain awful.

Then he realized, with great dismay, he was using Santana's obliviousness as a reason to mask his apparent disapproval of Dave simply not succumbing to his gay self. He was once again getting worked up over the fact that Dave wasn't ready to come out. But at the same time, this situation with Santana was still a problem. What if she did really like him? What then? How would she feel if and when she found out? And what would that do to her reputation? While the core of his concern had been derived from somewhere less that pleasant, it was none-the-less worth addressing.

Kurt's eyes scanned the photo one last time. Santana was always beautiful, but her smile in this photo was just unparalleled. And Dave... Kurt had only seen Dave genuinely smile a few times, and none of them were captured quite like this. He truly did look content. And he truly did look normal... and quite cute. Because really, those arms of his-

"You should see him without the shirt."

It was probably because he was more than a bit tipsy, but Santana's sultry voice suddenly in his ear startled him enough to gasp and literally jump in place. He peered over his shoulder, though his brain had registered the voice only seconds after he panicked. A hand flew in his chest and he breathed in deep, collecting himself.

"Jesus Christ." He blurted.

"Well that's new." Santana mused, leaning forward to rest both arms across the length of Kurt's shoulder blades, nestling her head against his as she gazed into the mirror. "People usually call me Satan." she said with a coy smile. Kurt looked at her reflection, forcing a smile over his lips, a bit too distracted when his mind finally processed what she had said before Kurt had freaked out.

Kurt would later wonder if Santana knew the can of worms she was opening in Kurt's brain. The visuals she put in his head of one, Dave Karofsky, without a shirt. And he wondered about those broad shoulders. About those toned, muscular arms. He wondered about that wide, flat chest and that sun-kissed skin.

And now, Kurt found his brain clogged with powerful images that were only paralleled by his sudden concern over the fact that Santana was insinuating she'd seen all the things Kurt was now speculating on. And Kurt now wondered, how far had they gone? It was Santana, after all. Had Dave gone all the way with her?

And what would an experience like that do to his already blurred line of sexuality.

And just like that, Kurt's worry over her outcome in this delicate situation was less of a concern. In fact, the sudden swelling in his gut - a feeling Kurt couldn't even begin to identify at the time - was a violent shock to Kurt's system. He suddenly felt a resentment toward Santana. Suddenly felt the need to look her up and down. To break down what it was about this girl that made her absolutely irresistible to the male gender.

It was a feeling Kurt had to smother, hit over the head with a shovel, bury and spit on. It wasn't Santana's fault. Kurt had to remind himself of that. She was an innocent party, as crazy as that seemed. She had no clue Dave was...

…

What if Dave wasn't even gay? What if Kurt was doing all this fretting over nothing? Hell, Blaine had even had a short period of time where he doubted his sexuality. And if there was one thing Kurt had come to terms with this summer, it was that he didn't have all the answers. And despite his role in the LGBT community, he certainly didn't know everything there was to know about being gay. So he couldn't even begin to wrap his brain around the L-BT portion.

Kurt had actually been happy to see that photo in Dave's locker. It was a nice photo. A really nice photo. And though he wished he'd have worded it better, Kurt was just trying to understand Dave. To find out just where he stood now-a-days. At first, Kurt thought he was in the clear. Dave didn't seem angry. Then on Friday, the larger boy was nowhere to be found, and Kurt was left with Noah Puckerman and his storybook of sexual exploitations.

The first time Kurt had waited for Dave at his locker, he'd been genuinely nervous of how Dave would perceive the gesture. Of course he hadn't thought about that until he was already at the locker. By that point, he was surrounded by Letterman jackets and very much doubted his ability to escape the hallway unscathed. He was only at that locker for like, two minutes, tops. But in those two minutes, Kurt fought a raging battle within his own mind, first antagonizing over being at the locker in the first place. Then realizing he'd put himself both in the center of the most jock populated hallway with no outlet, coupled with the fact that Dave's response to his presence may very well be negative.

Oh, the messes Kurt got himself into. But before he could dwell on it any further or take any sort of action, Dave had arrived. And he didn't freak out.

So the second time around, fueled by both that and his annoyance over Dave dumping Noah Puckerman on him, Kurt didn't even hesitate, making himself comfortable for the 1 minute, 36 seconds he was waiting. To say Dave's sudden change of heart irked him would be an understatement. For a moment, Kurt wondered why it upset him so, but he opted not to speculate on that too long, else he'd loose his gusto. Because, Kurt suddenly realized, without Bullywhips, the young countertenor never saw Dave. They had history together, but were seated on across the room. And since Kurt moved up to AP French, he no longer saw him in that class either. Kurt _needed_Bullywhips if he ever hoped to make this friendship happen!

For the record, Kurt hadn't been lying about Noah and his lack of a verbal filter. But to be honest, it was nothing Kurt hadn't grown accustomed two over the past two years.

He had gone to that locker planning on demanding what Dave's deal was. He'd planned on insisting Dave blew Kurt's comment on that photo out of proportion, and tell him he was being childish. Wasn't this Bullywhips thing just a facade for Dave to make up to Kurt for what he did junior year? Not that Kurt expected it or even agreed with his methods, but still, wasn't that his motive?

Kurt had gone there with so many things to say. But all that had come out was some pitiful sounding question that was riddled with doubt and worry.

Way to go, Kurt.

So when Dave said he'd find someone new for him on Monday, Kurt had resigned to the fact that Dave just may not want to be around him, and perhaps that was best. So, Kurt had accepted his response and moved to leave.

It was strange really, how when the in the direct vicinity of Dave Karofsky, Kurt sort of forgot about the hateful world around him. Forgot that even though "The Fury" had been subdued, there were still other things to fear in the halls of West McKinley. But the moment he stepped away from Dave and laid eyes on those baseball players, Kurt was given a clear reminder.

In a few short seconds, Kurt contemplated running like a mad man in the other direction (though there were jocks down the hall too), hiding in the bathroom (but the refuge of the girl's bathroom was in the next hall, and the boys' bathroom wouldn't do him any good) and screaming. He didn't have to do any of those though. Dave's hand suddenly clamped around Kurt's bicep, drawing him back over to his locker.

Kurt let out a small gasp, but Dave didn't seem aware of it as he moved in front of Kurt, shielding him from the oncoming barrage and successfully surrounding him against the lockers.

_'...And with his back against the lockers, Kurt would be surrounded by Dave, but not trapped. No, for those few seconds the entire world would just dissolve, only to consist of one another and the electricity passing between them that was completely undeniable...'_

Dave stood so still, Kurt thought that perhaps time itself had frozen. He couldn't see anything beyond Dave, but it wasn't like he was trying. In that moment, Kurt felt a sudden sense of security, and safety. Dave's hand was still on his arm, while the other gripped firmly to his locker door, blocking Kurt from the baseball players' view.

'._..the palms that had been against Kurt's cheeks would have fallen to his biceps, pulling him in closer, more intimately against Dave's body..._'

Kurt never knew what Dave smelled like. He'd never stood quite so close to him. It was a musk that was distinctly boy, coupled with a cologne that Kurt didn't recognize. It was classy though. Nice. A lot of the boys at school wore things like Old Spice and Axe. Not bad scents, but it was refreshing that Dave didn't smell like just any other boy.

The baseball players passed, and Dave let out a sigh.

'._..Kurt's hands would snake up Dave's chest to his neck, and his fingers would intertwine themselves with those short, messy curls. He'd cup his hands around those powerful shoulders, up and down those arms, and Dave would whimper like he had before. That small, needy little whimper that made Kurt's insides flutter..._'

Kurt felt his stomach turn and a shutter ran through his body, instantaneously heating him up. _Stop it_, Kurt ordered himself, even as his eyes scanned over the sharp edges of Dave's face. Jaw line hard and concentrated. Perfect eyebrows curved inward with concern. Lips in a straight line penetrated as his tongue darted out to moisten them once certain the threat had passed.

'_...The passion that he'd experienced that first time would be rejuvenated, and brought back in tenfold as Dave suddenly became bold, kissing him desperately. Hungrily, like a starving man... The clicking sound of their lips disconnecting and reconnecting would fill Kurt's ears... And then he'd kiss him, again and again until Kurt's heart retched and he was putty in Dave's hands.._.'

Kurt had never felt quite like this before. Never in his life had he felt such the desperate need to lunge forward to claim a set of lips against his own. Sure, there were times during a casual conversation where Kurt thought 'I wonder what it'd be like to kiss him'. But even with Finn and Blaine, he'd never been so bold. Never thought or felt something quiet so fiercely. But the energy was there, looming over him. The want and the wonder. Suddenly, Kurt was thinking '_was this how Dave felt_?' That day in the locker room, was it this insane urge that had compelled Dave to kiss Kurt the way he did?

And if it was; if Dave had succumbed to that drive, what would he think of Kurt if he did too?

Then, Dave's eyes connected with his, and the larger boy stepped away so fast it was like he'd been bitten. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyeing the floor pointedly. Kurt suddenly felt guilt swell up in his chest. How could he even be considering such a thing? Dave had been making a direct effort to keep him out of harm's way and he was seriously contemplating outing him in public like that? Kurt was disgusted with himself, and subconsciously, he knew it was on more levels than one.

Forced out of his daze, Kurt suddenly became hyper aware of the situation, and that a good half of the baseball team was just a few feet away from them. There was no way Kurt would be able to get past them on his own. He wasn't sure what was more embarrassing though; asking for Dave's help after all the things that had been going through his brain just seconds prior, or letting go of his pride and acknowledging that he needed Bullywhips. That he needed Dave.

The right guard spared him though, insinuating Kurt ought to walk him to his car since he planned on talking his ear off. His considerateness and smooth approach warmed Kurt's insides.

He'd offered Dave a ride home, realizing the boy intended on walking, and Kurt believed he was well on his way to earning Dave's friendship. So when he saw him on the way to school the next day, walking in the rain, Kurt was certain it was the fates telling him they were on his side, and approved of his plan.

Finding out Dave had arranged for Lauren Zizes to be his new escort put a bit of a damper on that. He was deterred even more the following day after learning Dave was yet again defaulting to another new member after Kurt rejected Lauren as well. Kurt countered the sudden feeling of strange rejection with perseverance. Dave would have to take the hint eventually, otherwise, it would just dwindle down to him being the only option. Kurt attempted to dismiss the concept that Dave was taking the hint and purposely ignoring it. It confused Kurt, because Dave was continuously engaging in conversation with him, and actually showing a receptiveness to his friendly advances.

He just couldn't figure Dave out.

That didn't surprise him though. Last year around this time, Kurt thought he knew exactly who Dave was: a bigot. A total idiot who had no inkling of the world outside of his Letterman jacket. A homophobe. A Lima loser.

Kurt had no clue what was boiling under the surface of Dave Karofsky's skin. No idea he was capable of terrifying Kurt and igniting a sense of pity in him all at once. No idea that his slushies and shoulder checks could evolve into locker slams and death threats. No idea that out of all the people at McKinley High, he, Dave Karofsky, could be questioning his sexuality.

Kurt wasn't even minutely aware that this guy was on the cusp of boiling over the edge until it happened. But just as quick as he'd risen, he simmered down. And Kurt thought it was some miraculous revealing of what had been underneath all long. Like he'd burnt away at all the gunk and build up he'd been surrounded in. Kurt thought, after the kiss, he'd seen the real Karofsky. He was wrong. He thought after he transferred, he knew what kind of guy Dave was. He was wrong then too. Then after Santana's plot, the apology... prom.

Kurt finally realized he'd never known Dave. He'd never had any idea of the layers there were to him, and still, after a whole year, he hadn't seen who he really was.

So, Kurt kept trying.

Then on Friday, as Kurt backed out of Dave's driveway, he asked,

"So, which Bully Whip do I get today?" There were only two choices left: Santana and Finn, both of which would be very hard to turn down. He'd spent plenty of time being escorted by Santana last year with no complaints. How was he going to find an excuse without insulting her?

And what if it was Finn? How could he possibly explain all this to Finn?

"Looks like you're stuck with me, Fancy."

After a moment of processing just what those words meant, Kurt could feel himself grinning, and the thought made his cheeks fill with heat. But Dave peered over at him with his own toothy grin "'less you got a problem with it." Kurt shook his head, saving his celebratory inner dance for later, and he shrugged,

"I think I'll manage, somehow." He'd replied.

Kurt had felt it was entirely appropriate when '_Blue Skies_' came on his iPod, and he mistakenly begun to sing along. It was stuck in his head up until Dave texted him on Sunday.

The text had come around 11 in the morning, and they chatted back and fourth until around 1 (AM that is), where Kurt now found himself staring at the clock, wondering if one lost hour of sleep would have an affect on his skin.

_**'You can't be serious. How have you never watched even one episode of Law & Order? There's a reason there's like 5 billion different versions: It's a-w-e-s-o-m-e. Fo show'**_

Kurt rolled his eyes.

_'Honestly, it's the theme song that kills me. Nothing even remotely catchy.'_

_**'Oh, heck no. There are two beats they do between each of the segments, and That, those two little beats, get stuck in your head. Legit, if I'm like, wrapping up a conversation and heading to my next class, I think of one of their segways and those two beats resonate in my brain. Bah-Bum.'**_

_'Do your segways come with inner monologues, too? :) ' _

_**'More like narrations. When I think monologues, I think of Rorschach from Watchmen.'**_

_'Never seen it.'_

_**'...'**_

_' =P '_

_**'Man, you're killin' me.' **_

_'Not huge on the comic book movies. Though Batman has a special place in my heart; he's all kinds of badass.' _

_**'Batman is the definition of Badass. And how can you not like comic book movies? Crazy outfits, guys in tight clothing, painfully over-dramatic love scenarios. C'mon, Spiderman? Fantastic Four? Iron Man?'**_

_'Spiders freak me out, admittedly watched like half of Fantastic Four with Finn and Puck but they just kept forwarding to parts with Jessica Alba, and Iron Man? What kind of super hero name is that?'_

_**'A#%&JDA$FU#82'**_

_'?'_

_**'Dude, if you like Batman, you'll like Iron Man. Fucking Robert Downey Jr.!" **_

_'Like Batman huh? Well, it might be worth a gander then =P '_

_**'How about X-men?'**_

_'Ah, the mutant one? Negative.'_

_**'Oh C'mon. Hugh Jackman? And Ian McKellen! Now there's a bad ass gay guy. And Patrick Stewert! aka Jean-Luc Picard!'**_

Kurt hesitated before responding. He'd been very careful all day not to mention anything that would give the inclination he was trying to get Dave to open up about his sexuality or anything of the sorts. He wanted Dave to bring it up. And though this was what he'd hoped for, he hadn't expected it so soon, or for it to be mentioned in such a lackadaisical manor.

_'Hugh Jackman: depends on the movie. I'm usually 50/50 on him. Sir Ian (because he was totally knighted), is my kind of classy role model. And Picard? For the record, the only reason I picked up the Star Trek reference is because of Sam Evens, and side note: I hate to break it to you David, but your nerd is showing :) ' _

_**'Have you seen the new Star Trek movie?'**_

_' coughnerdcough, and No, I haven't.'_

_**'... the hell, man? I was totally just about to ask you a 'which guy is hotter' question, but that's cool. Whatevs...' **_

Kurt couldn't believe it. Dave was actually talking about guys. Willing. Casually! And Kurt didn't freaking know the movie!

_'Who are the actors? I'll google them.' _

_**'No no no. You have to see them in the Star Trek context. THEN you can compare their other work.' **_

_'Pft. Okay fine. Requesting the disc on Netflix now.'_

_**'Dude, I have the movie if you wanna like, watch it this week or something.'**_

Okay, so that hadn't been what Kurt was expecting. He pushed himself away from his computer, collecting his cell phone in his hands as he retreated to his bed, toeing off his socks as he climbed on. He hated sleeping with socks on.

Kurt wasn't sure how to respond. He scolded himself for being hesitant, but fact of the matter: he was. Dave hadn't bullied a soul since Kurt's return last year, so it's not like he thought Dave had some sort of elaborate plan put together to get him alone and attack him or anything. But still. It wasn't like a drive to school or an escort through the hallways. It was an invitation to spend an extended period of time together.

This is good, Kurt told himself. He wanted to create a friendship with Dave, and friends watch movies together. This was no big deal.

'_I have after school Glee rehearsals Tuesday and Thursday. What days do you have hockey?_'

Kurt already knew football practiced Mondays, Wednesday and Saturday mornings. It took a few minutes for Dave to text back.

_**'Actually, I meant I could loan it to you … but I have hockey Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturday afternoons. I'm free Friday and Saturday night, too.'**_

Kurt felt his cheeks burn. Well that was just plain embarrassing. He was glad he didn't realize his assumption until having it pointed out to him, otherwise he would have been utterly mortified by Dave's brief silence.

_'Oh! lol, sorry! I usually just assume people like to spend time with my amazing self. But I get it, it's a lot of fabulous in one sitting ;-) You seem busy anyways!'_

Good save, Kurt!

_**'I could do later Sunday too.'**_

… Oh.

_'Rachel's got a show Friday night I've got to go to, and Sunday's sort of Family Day.' _

_**'How about Saturday then?'**_

Seemed like Dave really wanted to get together. Kurt couldn't help but smile. He'd sort of resigned to the fact that the older boy would most likely not want to talk about himself or being gay or anything of that nature. Now, however, Kurt was fairly certain there was a door being opened here. Maybe not a closet door. Perhaps just a window. But a window was a start.

And maybe once a cool breeze of fresh air swooped in, Dave would be enticed to go outside!

On a side note: Kurt enjoyed thinking of himself as that cool breeze of fresh air.

_'I can do Saturday. Where at?'_

_**'Well, I'd come to your place but … well does your dad own a shot gun?' **_

_'No, but plenty of power tools. :) I'm sure if I talk to him, he'll be okay with it.' _

_**'Idk man. I mean I will, if you don't think he'll kill me.'**_

_'Well, how would your parents feel about me coming over?'_

_**'I think they'd be happy to see me spending time with someone other than McKinley's football player goon squad. But chances are, they won't be home anyways.'**_

Kurt considered that. Maybe Dave would feel more comfortable on his own turf?

_'Alright. Your place then. 7-ish?'_

_**'Works for me.' **_

_'Cool. In the mean time, it's almost 2. I should really get to bed.'_

_**'Yeah, me too. Statistics quiz tomorrow and all. See you tomorrow then'**_

_'You still buying coffee?' _

_**'You order, I'll pay. ' **_

_"Sounds good :) Night, David!'_

_'__**G'night, Fancy.'**_

Kurt rolled his eyes as he nestled into his sheets, and smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

On Monday, Kurt got them some kind of latte drinks.

_'Try it, you'll like it'_

On Tuesday, Kurt talked about ordering pizza while he was over for the movie.

_'We can order in. My treat.'_

On Wednesday, Dave offered to take care of dinner; and it wasn't pizza.

_"I've got it covered, Fancy."_

On Thursday, Dave laughed at how flustered Kurt became when Dave wouldn't tell him what he had planned.

_'You'll just have to wait and see!'_

_..._

Then on Friday, before the 2nd period bell rang, Scott Cooper slushied Dave.

Kurt hadn't seen it happen. He'd heard a deluge of gasps erupting from the students, echoing as it ricocheted back through the crowded hallway from one kid to the next, broken only by Scott Cooper's laugh as he and two of his buddies made their way on down the hall. Kurt turned as they passed, eyes first falling on the empty cafeteria cups in their hands, then sadly up to their latest victim. The form Kurt saw there in the middle of the hallway, with broad shoulders squared and head turned downward as ice and water slid down his brow, was one Kurt had become so familiar with that he recognized it immediately.

But at the same time, he didn't. Because there was no way it was David Karofsky. There was no way anyone would have the balls to take him on. Kurt had been told that while he was away at Dalton (during the football team's short cameo in the Glee Club) the boys had been cornered by the entire hockey team and a number of kids, Dave included, had been slushied. But Kurt just had trouble believing it. He heard about it, multiple times. It was the underlining reason the football players had backed out of the half time routine and gotten themselves booted from the championship game. But still...Kurt just couldn't visualize such a thing as feasible.

Dave remained completely stationary for a few long moments, ones that seemed to extend far longer than the 2 seconds they really were, before whispers and murmurs began to fill the suddenly condensed space they occupied. Dave snapped to attention, turning quickly on his heel and literally marching into the bathroom, shoving passed people purposefully.

Kurt's feet moved as though they were on auto pilot. It wasn't until he was in front of the men's room door, eyes drinking in the little male figure that universally represented this as the men's bathroom, that he realized what he was doing. He was chasing David Karofsky. Again.

He wasn't sure if people were watching just then. Would they say something if Kurt followed him in? Would Dave be angry if they did? Kurt didn't have time to think about that though. His hand was on the door, applying pressure, and before he knew it the scent of toilet cleaner and residual cigarette smoke filled his nostrils. He turned the small tiled bend of the door, spotting Karofsky at the far end of the room.

The water was running on full blast, successfully covering up the noise of any commotion going on outside. And the mountain of a man was bent over, head tipped toward the wall as he attempted to fit his entire noggin in the sink. Fingers ran through his hair, repeatedly missing globs of ice, and he was hissing violently under his breath and obscenities streamed quietly from his lips.

Kurt knew it sucked. Knew it stung. Knew that really, a part of him should be rejoicing in the fact that not only was Dave getting what he deserved, but Kurt was lucky enough to witness it. That's not what he felt in that moment though. Because was beginning to understand. Beginning to really know Dave.

This was a concept Kurt struggled with. Dave had done some bad things. Dave had been so terrible, Kurt relinquished his individuality and retreated to a safe haven that was Dalton. But, Dave had simply been responding (albeit violently) to a society that created vastly contradictory expectations of him. The world told him, you are a boy. Then showed him images of what it means to be a boy. At an early age, he was structured by his - and his parent's - social status, political standing, and religious and ethnic background. He was given molds to fit into, then told, based on these molds, this is the path you must follow to succeed. And you want to succeed. Thus was created a typical American boy, attempting to fit into the social bubble of a middle-class public school.

Who was gay. And gay didn't quite fit into his mold. And based off the characterizations displayed by the media of what it means to be a homosexual male, Dave had no way of applying that to who he was, or molded to be. So what then? Everything society had structured him to become was now contradicting something that was growing into a very dominate part of who he was. So he reacted like he was structured to do: he fought it. Then the society that drove him to react as thus turned around and punished him for his reactions.

Dave shouldn't have done what he did. But, if Kurt had been in his shoes, would he have done it differently? Could he have done better?

Would he even have had the chance to?

Kurt couldn't be sure. And all that considered, Kurt came to the conclusion that while he was fighting a battle against the ignorance of the jocks of McKinley High (Dave included), it was clear Dave was fighting the same battle, just on a very different front. Even if he didn't realize it himself.

"God Damnit, son of a bitch.." Dave sneered, his mouth contorting as he spoke. His fingers clamped over his eyes, rubbing fiercely at them.

"David." The boy stilled, and somehow his large hulking form over that tiny sink suddenly looked even more strange. Heels clicked against the tiled floor as Kurt moved forward. It was so loud he felt like he was talking over the sound, "Rubbing at it will only make it worse." he told him. "And you're missing a lot of it." Kurt stopped when he arrived at Dave's side, and his hands unconsciously began wringing at his wrists. Suddenly, the lack of clicking made it seem far quieter, and he felt silly talking so loudly. "I can help you." he offered in a hushed voice, "If it's okay with you."

Dave didn't respond at first, his fingers unmoving and body still. Then finally, he nodded, hands leaving his face to grip onto the sides of the sink, eyelids clamped shut. Kurt nodded, though Dave couldn't see, and proceeded to open his shoulder-bag, pulling out his emergency slushie kit. The first item: Shampoo. "Just hold still, we'll get all the slushie out."

Kurt eased forward, trying to awkwardly place himself beside Dave. His dropped his bag to the ground and tentatively reached out, fingertips slipping into dark brown hair that ever-so-slightly curled at the ends. Breathe, Kurt told himself. He'd done this a million times before. This instance should be no different. He'd washed all kinds of hair in fact! From Quinn's and Brittney's thin blond strands, to Mercedes' African do, Santana's thick Latino curls, and Tina's long-ass stick-straight hair. This was a cake walk.

Dave's hair was thick, made more-so when damp. And the water brought out the scent of his shampoo, which Kurt dismally realized would be washed out and masked by Kurt's. His fingers glided through Dave's hair, pushing out the slush. He applied some pressure to the side of his head, urging him to tip it over to get the other side. Dave complied, eyes screwed shut the whole time. Kurt cupped his hand under the water, bringing it up to rise the back of Dave's neck. He watched as the red goo slid down, following Dave's jaw line before slipping into the sink.

"Uh, K-" Kurt swallowed hard, having to clear his throat to speak, "Keep still for a second longer." he instructed, then applied a little shampoo into his palm and began working it into Dave's hair. Kurt cleared his throat again, "It's best to wash your hair out, otherwise the sugar will be there all day and it'll feel sticky and gross." Kurt said in his most informative tone. Dave didn't say anything. Kurt decided not to take it to heart. The guy did just get slushied after all. So, the countertenor began cupping water again, rising away the suds,

He leaned over Dave's shoulders, carefully to get out all the soap before he backed up again. "There." He said. As Dave reached up to gently wipe his eyes, Kurt pulled out the second item in his kit: a hand towel. "Here." he said as he extended it out. Dave blinked a couple of times, hands still looming at his eye level as they adjusted to the light. "It's better than a paper towel." Kurt said as Dave reached for the small cloth, "Else you'll have paper stuck to your hair."

As Dave ran the towel over his head, he peered up at Kurt, who'd folded his hands neatly in front of him in an incredibly Kurt-like fashion. He smiled a bit, "I've had some experience in the matter." He said. Dave turned quickly, unsuccessfully attempting to avoid making his wince seen. "Umm, we can probably get that stain out." Kurt offered, eye's adverted down to the now red-tinted collar of his blue and white polo. Dave attempted to look down at the damage, but human anatomy prevented such a feat. Still, he nodded in agreement, and Kurt held out his hand.

Dave reached for the bottom of his shirt, carefully lifting it up as to not disturb the white t-shirt he wore beneath it. Kurt then pulled the third item out of his kit: a travel stain remover. He applied it to Dave's shirt, and began to wash it in the sink. When a dismayed sigh reached his ears, Kurt peered over to see Dave examining the red coloring on his white shirt.

"We can probably get that out too." he said, looking down to see the red finally out of the polo, and he held it up to inspect at eye level. Kurt smiled proudly to himself. He was pleased Dave trusted him. Enough to wash his hair out, to fix his shirt. Heck, almost like he was his boyfriend, really-

Kurt paused his movements, startled by his own thought. Why would he think of that? Why would that even pop into his brain? That was so incredibly inappropriate. Imagine what Dave would say if he knew! Kurt scolded himself, and quickly shook his head of the thought. He turned to Dave, shirt in hand.

"This stuff is amazing, really, it works wonders-"

...

He'd muffled the gasp. He was certain he did... he did didn't he? Oh God, if he didn't just how embarrassing would that be? Either he had, or Dave must have been too focused to hear it as he put his T-shirt in the sink, damping the affected areas. He'd taken his shirt off...He'd taken his damn shirt off!

Dave's torso was just at Kurt had imagined (skip over the fact that Kurt had at some point imagined what Dave would look like shirtless) and at the same time...not. He had weight on him, around his waist, but... his arms were thick with muscle, his shoulders broad, and his chest flat. The muscles in his shoulder blades rolled as he worked the dye out of his shirt, perfect brows dipped down in concentration.

Okay so a six-pack wasn't quite as evident as it would be on say, Sam Evans (though there was no doubt there was muscle there). Still, there was something incredibly attractive about him. Dave's body was thick, and manly. A very light dusting of hair grazed his chest, and there were still traces of a summer tan to his skin. Kurt watched his bicep work as he wrung out his shirt, and felt he cheeks burning with the realization of how badly he wanted to touch it.

"Here!" Kurt said, a little louder than he intended. He held out Dave's polo and pointedly focused his attention on the sink. "You put this under the hand dryer, I'll wash that out." he said, and his hand dove in to take hold of the little white fabric and set to work. Dave did as told, moving to the dryer beside the sink.

The hand dryer was loud, and that made Kurt feel a little better, like the noise was somehow dimming the tension that had built up. So Kurt took that opportunity to redeem himself a bit. This was something a friend would do. Any friend. Kurt had done this plenty of times for a number of glee club members, male and female. And even for a few frightened freshmen. Kids he didn't even know! This was certainly not something exclusively for a boyfriend to do, else Kurt would be dating a good half of McKinley's high's student population...

So why had he even thought that? Thought, even for just a second - a millisecond - a _nanosecond_... about what it would be like to be _with _Dave. Maybe not really a boyfriend, but more than just friends or...Jesus, what had he even been thinking really? What had even led to that?

Cleaning out his hair, fixing his shirt... It had ignited a feeling in Kurt like he was...being there for Dave. Supporting him, helping him, taking care of him. And within a billionth of a second that concept flipped on his back and all of a sudden Kurt's brain went from being the friend giving a helping hand to the boyfriend making sure the guy he cared about was taken care of. And that, that right there spilled a flood of not just thoughts, but images into Kurt's mind of what it would be like to be that guy for Dave. What it would be like to …

… to see Dave happy for the simple fact that Kurt was near him. To be Dave's escape from the rest of the world that caused him so much grief. And that, that thought sent butterflies to Kurt's stomach and heat to his cheek.

All in a billionth of a second.

Kurt peered over at Dave, who's brows were curved down in thought as he turned the fabric between his massive fingers. The form of his body was outlined in light from the sun streaming in the patterned window glass. All of a sudden, it was like Kurt was seeing Dave through different eyes. And he wondered...

"Holy Shit Karofsky," was proceeded by the swinging of the bathroom door and hearty laughs as two hockey players made their way into the bathroom. "Cooper wasn't lying then, he really did slushie you!" One of them said as they made their way across the tiled floor, giving Karofsky a once over.

"Man, we didn't believe him. Didn't think he had the balls." The other one said. Kurt cast his glance back toward Dave to find his jaw set firmly together and his hands gripping tightly to his shirt as he continued to rotate it over the hand dryer. The boys were still laughing when they finally acknowledged Kurt's presence, apparently having looked right past him when they walked in. "Seriously Karofsky, you're letting the lady boy touch your things?"

Kurt huffed, barely containing the twitch of his eyebrow.

"As if he'd be able to tackle a set in stain on his own, pah-lease." Kurt bit back. He didn't look up though. Didn't meet their eyes. It wasn't that he was scared, because he wasn't. He simply didn't want to turn this into more of a scene than it had to be.

"Christ Hummel, you just reach new levels of gay every fucking day."

"Guys, just back off." To say Kurt was surprised would be putting it mildly. He suddenly realized that was the first thing Dave had said since he'd entered the bathroom.

"Relax DK, Beastie's out on the field." the other boy said, and suddenly, Kurt was wishing he'd turned around as both boys entered his peripherals on either side, successfully trapping him against the sink. He spun quickly on his heel, but was pressed back until his fingers met the cold porcelain behind him and braced his body against it.

"Ya know I haven't given a good swirly in awhile." the one to his right said with a snide grin. Kurt greened at the thought. Then frighteningly quickly, the boy reached up and his hand clamped onto a clump of Kurt's hair, yanking him forward.

"C'mon now Princess." The other one said, latching onto his arm and dragging him forward. Kurt prepared to lift his arms up and grasp like hell to the sides of the stalls in some attempt at ceasing, if not delaying the inevitable. But he'd barely reached the metal doors when Dave's voice boomed through the small room.

"I said: back off, asshole!" he yelled. Suddenly the hand in his hair was gone, and Kurt turned to see Dave gripping onto the boy's shoulder, glaring daggers at him.

Everything escalated so quickly after that. The said boy became irritated and gave Dave a shove, to which Dave responded with a shove of his own, which prompted the other boy to step in. This startled Dave and he abruptly pushed them both away, inadvertently tossing the first boy into a stall, which in retaliation earned him a sharp punch to the jaw. To which he returned, in ten-fold. But two against one was just that, and the other boy rammed his body into Dave's, sending them both into the wall. The other boy got up, and began swinging at him. Dave fell to his knees quickly, causing the boy to punch the wall where his head was. He cried out in pain, but his cries were quickly joined by Dave's when the second boy gave him a swift kick. Gripping his most certainly broken hand, the first boy screamed.

"Goddamnit, you fucking faggot!"

In that moment, Kurt wasn't certain just what it was that clicked in him. He realized though that this meant his hard work with Dave could very well be jeopardized, because even though these boys certainly didn't know David was gay, they had used that word. Not in its intended context, but rather as a derivative for a term to represent something smaller than them, less than them. Something bad.

Kurt heard his heels clicking against the floor, resounding through the room with a sense of dominance that was unparalleled. He saw Dave's face contorting with confusion as he approached, and he felt his fingers curving. Balling against his palm. At the time, he didn't know what compelled him to do what he did. But he would later recognize it as nothing less than pure:

Testosterone.

Kurt's palm wrapped around one boy's shoulder, silently beckoning him to turn. What met him was a porcelain fist.

Kurt watched as blood gushed out of the boy's nose, and he began to swear violently. Dave took the opportunity and shoved the other boy off him, hustling to his feet and pointedly hovering over him, reminding him of just who was bigger. The boy blanched, quickly snagging his friend's jacket to hurry him out the door.

"Fuck you guys." He snarled. "Let's go man." The other boy didn't say anything, just allowed himself to be led out of the room, gripping his nose the whole way. Kurt gave a huff, still glaring even as the door swung shut. Then, as his breathing eased and the haze of energy around him dwindled, he realized-

"Oh my fucking God!" He squealed, looking down at his right hand as though it had just sprouted it's own head, "That hurt!" He cried out, staring at the appendage incredulously. "Why, why would someone think that was a good idea?" He asked aloud. He turned to look up at Dave just as the other boy approached him, taking hold of his wrist and nudging him back to the sink. He flipped on the cold water, and put Kurt's hand under the steady flow. Kurt hissed at first, then gave a sigh. "They just make it look so easy in movies!" He said.

Dave huffed beside him, and Kurt looked up. He was close. Really close. His shoulder met Kurt's eye line. His broad, still bare shoulders, attached to a set of thick, hard biceps. Biceps that flexed and tightened when those hockey boys had shoved him around. Muscles that moved fluidly under his skin, shifting in his back in a way that for some ungodly reason had Kurt flushing red.

"Can you move your fingers?" Dave's voice said through the chaos of Kurt's thoughts. The countertenor looked down at his hand, wincing as he wiggled his fingers around.

"It hurts, but yeah." he said. Dave nodded.

"Doesn't look like you broke it," he said. Kurt watched with mild fascination as Dave's much larger thumb grazed over his knuckle. Wow, he thought, that felt nice.

Just as quickly as the thought hit him though, Dave had released him and retrieved his t-shirt from the sink, placing it on the next hand dryer, then turned to inspect his polo. Clean, dry. He stared down at the fabric between his fingers for a moment, then gave a quick nod.

"Thanks, Fancy." he said quietly. Kurt wasn't sure what to think just then, standing there with his hand under the water, staring dumbly at Dave.

Dave had been given the McKinley High's number one branding of nerdism: a slushie facial. Proceeding that, he'd been followed into the bathroom by the school's resident gay, whom had been caught washing his shirt when two hockey players had sought out their recently socially demoted friend. Then, when they'd moved to remind Kurt of his own social standing, Dave had stepped in. Stopped them. Got into a fight with his teammates, with his friends. A fight that was halted when Kurt, (again: bottom of the social food chain) had gotten a strange surge of manliness and had punched one of them. If it wasn't enough that Dave had come to his defense, Kurt had come to Dave's.

Not that it meant anything. It had taken the boys by surprise yes, but hadn't Dave been there, they would have simply turned and kicked the crap out of Kurt. It was the principal of it though. Dave didn't need Kurt's help. But it was a hit none-the-less. He could only imagine what was being said outside that bathroom door.

"Oh God I'm an idiot, I'm so sorry." Kurt blurted, reaching out to turn off the water as though it had suddenly burned him. He sighed heavily, shaking his head in dismay and lips pursing together.

"I thank you and you apologize?" Dave's voice was much lighter than it had any right to be. Kurt looked up at him hesitantly. Could he really just dismiss everything that just happened? Pretend he wasn't thinking the exact same thing Kurt was? Dave sighed heavily as he flipped his shirt inside out to get the last few wet spots.

"Hey umm, any chance I can get a rain check on tomorrow?"

…

Kurt nodded.

"Y-yeah, no problem."

* * *

><p>He didn't mope the rest of the day Friday. He didn't. And the reason he didn't go out with everyone after Rachel's show at the Country Club that night wasn't because of Dave. He was just tired. And the reason he stayed up and ate himself a whole pint of Ben &amp; Jerry's certainly wasn't because he was blaming himself for potentially ruining this chances with Dave.<p>

Chances for a friendship that is.

The next morning found Kurt still asleep well after 10 a.m., but even as he awoke, his whole body still seemed tired. So he just laid there for awhile, hiding in the shadows of his blinds that made valiant attempts to block the invading sunlight.

So maybe he had ruined everything...but what else could he have done? He couldn't have simply ignored the fact that Dave had been slushied. Friends didn't do that, and that's what they were going for right? A friendship? So maybe he should have left Dave to do the fighting. Or maybe he should have tried to tell Dave it was okay, he didn't have to step in, and just let those guys swirly him. But would Dave, who still actively believed in the principles of the Bully Whips, have just sat back and allowed that anyways? So, what should Kurt have done differently?

The text came around 2:30.

It was link about an actor, Zachary Quinto (whom Kurt had never heard of), who apparently came out of the closet earlier in the week. Below the link Dave wrote:

_**'Sry. I'm an idiot. Any chance you'd still be up for that movie tonight?' **_

Kurt couldn't type '_Yes' _ fast enough.


	7. Chapter 7

The slushy on Friday had blindsided him. Dave wasn't sure when Cooper had grown himself a pair of balls, but now that he had, he was attempting to tea-bag the whole school with them. He'd spared no one that day, from gleeks to cheerleaders. It seemed the only ones safe from Cooper's slushy rampage had been fellow hockey players, who - spurred by Cooper's display of authority - had in turn joined the sugar coated massacre.

Dave found out later that Hudson, Chang, and Rashad from the football team had been slushied. He'd also spotted Avery Herbach ushering a fellow soccer player to the bathroom as the boy shielded his eyes from the dripping blue goo.

Dave had thought he'd be spending the majority of the day cursing himself for bailing on Kurt and the movie, but honestly he hadn't had time to properly feel guilty. From the moment he'd left the bathroom, he found himself being used as barricade between the hockey team and the McKinley High student body at large. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd thrown that many bodies into lockers. His attempts at stopping the slushy facials often resulted in messes on the hallway floors or getting himself partially dowsed by default. In addition, hockey players took body hits much better than the footballers. They were use to being slammed into walls and despite Dave's size, hardly flinched.

And it didn't help that Dave had been slushied himself. He'd apparently been the first victim of the day. Kinda like a display of power, bringing down the muscle of the two founders of Bullywhips.

Cooper was waltzing around like he was invincible.

Dave's plan had been to follow Cooper after school and catch him off school grounds as he made his way to the ice rink. He'd be risking the chance of having to take on 2 or 3 guys, but Dave's adrenaline had been pumping since that bastard Mullen had grabbed onto Kurt's hair. Dave felt himself ticking. He was ready to explode.

But Santana hadn't been able to wait that long. She snapped at 7th period. Dave didn't see her punch Cooper, but he heard her screaming,

"_Aléjate de Brittany! Te voy a matar, hijo de puta! No te acerques a ella otra vez_!" Dave had rounded the corner just as she slipped out of Mercedes Jones' grip. He'd caught her before she got to Cooper again, and had to literally pick her up off the ground to drag her away.

"Santana, stop it!" Mercedes had bellowed beside him as he attempted to ignore the nails clawing into his left arm, which was hooked around Santana's waist. "Do you **want **to get expelled?" She'd asked. Santana didn't wanna hear it though.

The choir room, Mercedes had said. Dave carted Santana all the way there, her heels making an awful screeching noise the whole time as they dragged across the floor. There, half the glee club was consoling Brittany over her first time being slushied.

"_Suéltame, hijo de puta_!" Dave had been honestly surprised Santana hadn't bitten him to free herself. She gave him a sideways glance. She was angry. So very angry.

But not at him.

"_Brittany, lo siento mucho. Dios, me voy a matar a ese hijo de puta_."

Dave really did know too much Spanish.

The whole school knew Santana had punched Cooper, so denying it wouldn't do her any good. Dave imagined this whole scenario left a bitter taste in the mouths of all those present as they attempted to come up with a plan before Figgins came down to fetch Santana for her punishment. He also found it incredibly strange as Tina, that little Chinese girl, instructed him to sit as they discussed the situation.

For that moment, their opinions of Dave Karofsky didn't matter, apparently. He sat there between Mercedes Jones and Artie - fucking still oddly jealous of Artie - Abrams, as Rachel Barry paced the room. Brittany and Santana sat attached the hip and Quinn positioned herself nearby, legs crossed and shoulders squared.

"Finn says none of the teachers saw ye hit him." Dave still hadn't learned that exchange student's name, but he watched as the boy snapped his cell phone shut and gave Santana a hesitant smile. She glared back.

"That imbecile has been slushying people all day. Someone had to do something." Rachel said in an argumentative tone, tossing her hands out erratically.

"That's not going to do her any good in Figgins' office." It was weird how Quinn's even voice seemed to balance out Barry's.

"If no one saw what happened, maybe she could say he started it." Mercedes offered.

"He **did **start it." Rachel piped, casting a quick glance at Dave's slushy-stained tee. Kurt's earlier efforts had been in vain considering the day's proceedings.

"Well, how did you do it, Karofsky?" Quinn's voice was so icey, it sent a shiver up Dave's spine. He knew before he even turned his head he didn't want to look at her. He'd seen her cold stare before. He'd seen it directed at Finn, Puck, Rachel. He'd seen the contempt in her eyes and swore he felt a bitter breeze shutter his bones in passing. He didn't want to look, but he had to.

"What?" was all he managed. Her piercing hazel eyes were trained on him. Her perfect features still and unwavering. She tipped her head, just enough for a few strands of that perfect blond hair to shift.

"You bullied Kurt on a daily basis and got away with it. How'd you do it?" she rephrased. Dave watched her glossed lips move. He kind of expected there to be fangs under there...

"This situation's totally different," Santana snapped, her ponytail bouncing as she turned to glare at the former Cheerio. Honestly, Dave had kinda liked the pink hair...

"I'm just saying-"

"And he did get suspended, as I recall-"

"Ye bullied young Kurt?"

"-thought he could shed some light on how he got away with-"

"-tiene que dejar de hablar de cosas que no entiendo-"

"I lied." It was weird. A room had never quieted down when he'd spoken before. "Everyone in the room knew, but they couldn't prove it so...I got off with a warning." It was the truth. And everyone here, save the very confused exchange student, knew it. It wasn't like Dave had anything to hide on that front. For a moment, everyone was quiet, then Artie Abrams, Artie _fucking_Abrams, broke the trance,

"So say you thought you were gonna get slushied." He said, gloved hands tossed out casually as he shrugged, "You thought you were next on his list. So you panicked and accidentally hit him when he came toward you."

Santana was given a week's in-school suspension. She'd faked tears, told Figgins how Cooper had been attacking people all day. When the Glee club members and bullywhips were questioned on the validity of her story, they confirmed, earning Cooper a night's detention on circumstantial grounds.

One night's detention.

Dave understood why the glee club wanted to punch him.

* * *

><p>Dave didn't give the movie another thought until Saturday morning. Friday night he'd trucked up to his room before his mother could start her game of 20 questions, and crashed immediately, sugar coating still in his hair. But even as he awoke the next day, he realized then that he was so exhausted he hardly wanted to be fretting over it now. So he attempted to distract himself by diving into the Internet.<p>

But, even the world wide web wasn't big enough to escape from himself. A tweet popped up on his dash from the actor Zachary Quinto, admittedly Dave's favorite of the two Star Trek stars. A crush that spawned from the short-lived fame of Heroes, as Syler. It was a blog post about his reactions to a young boy from Buffalo killing himself as a result of being tormented at school for his sexuality, and Zachary's need to be more of a vocal advocate and to represent those like him.

Dave had heard plenty about the kid. Jamey Rodemeyer. A number of celebrities had put a lot of weight onto his death. Dave had seen the video of Lady Gaga's song dedication to him, and had seen the tweets about him.

It made him wonder, looking back even just a few decades ago, during the civil right movement and others like it, what did it feel like then? To be fighting those political and social battles. To be making a stand when such powerful forces were pressing them down. To make that conscious decision when you know you might be shot down, or become a walking target to those around you that do not agree.

He wondered for those of that era who are still around, what did they see when they looked back? What did it feel like for them. Did the world look different? How did they see the issues we face today?

For him, and he imagined for many his age, it was like any other phase in history. People standing up for what they believed was right and the world being a better place for it. At least that seemed to be the American perspective. There were points during the movements, events that were the catalyst of change and growth. He wondered where Jamey Rodemeyer stood in all that. If his name would be remembered like we remember Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr. If he'd be added to the list of those written in the history books like Fannie Lou Hamer, a Mississippi sharecropper who was beaten and jailed in 1962 for trying to register to vote.

He wondered if Jamey's name would be another beside Matthew Shepard's.

And he wondered how many names were forgotten. How many didn't get written down and future generations would never learn about. He wondered how many fell through the cracks even as this battle was happening. The ones that didn't get tweeted about and didn't get song dedications or blog posts.

People complain that homosexuality is being overused and pushed to the forefront of media attention as a marketing tool or something of those sorts. Dave doesn't agree with that. If he ever were to be candid on the topic, he'd say there are just enough people now willing to speak up, and that are gathering the tools to do so. It was strange to Dave, because a part of him thought they might right now be in the midst of a movement themselves. Of a shift in society. Of a wind of change.

The way it's taught in school is like an event that we can bundle up in a nice little package. In our brains, it's like a chain reaction. One person said something then Boom! A movement. And change happened. But that's not how it works. It's drawn out. It takes time, and work and growth. And Dave wondered if maybe 40, 50 years ago, they didn't quite realize what they were a part of at the time. If they didn't know all the things going on around them would one day be called a movement, and the names they heard on television would be written down in history books.

Dave wondered.

It didn't take him long to message Kurt after that. His name might not be written down in a book someday, but a part of him knew a change was happening. Even if it was taking baby steps. Maybe he could take those steps with it.


	8. Chapter 8

Dave didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. He didn't know how he could have possibly missed such a vital piece of information. He'd been talking to Kurt for weeks. Daily! At school, over text message. They were definitely in the friend realm, and this is something a friend would know...

And okay, so maybe Dave wished there was a possibility they could be more than friends (though there wasn't). But if there was, then this was most certainly something he should have found out by now.

But honest to God, the thought hadn't even occurred to him. And now he sincerely missed that blissful ignorance that had him picking up the house, cleaning his room, and whipping up the only dish he had any skill in making: Mac 'n Cheese casserole. Essentially it's a layer of Kraft Mac 'n Cheese, a layer of ground beef (or soy meat in this case as Dave's honestly wasn't sure if Kurt was a vegetarian or not) cooked with a generous amount of barbecue sauce, and another layer of mac 'n cheese.

_Bam_! College level dorm room cooking right there for ya...

Not that Dave didn't like pizza, but honestly, he wanted to use that as an excuse for another time. Obviously Dave couldn't very well ask Kurt if he could buy him dinner without seeming like he was asking him out on a date. Saying 'Hey, wanna grab some pizza?' would come across as more of a friend excursion, while at the same time allowing Dave to pay for him and score some one on one time...

...Dave sighed to himself as he pulled on a button up shirt, not really looking in the mirror as he became engulfed in his thoughts. It really did seem like Dave was attempting to romance Kurt in some way. He couldn't deny that, no matter how hard he tried, and it made him feel guilty. Kurt went out of his way this year to befriend McKinley's still closeted jock, despite that Dave didn't deserve such kindness. Kurt was the last person in the world that owed Dave anything. And yet he still put himself out there. He acknowledged that Dave was still working out who he was, and offered up a helping hand. Or an ear, or...whatever.

If he was being honest, Dave would admit it still irked him a bit that Kurt hadn't shown such understanding last year. He hadn't been ready to come out, and Kurt simply wasn't capable of wrapping his brain around that. But at the end of the day, Dave recognized that he's the last person in the world to judge anyone for stupid, uneducated decisions. So instead he remembered to be thankful for what he had now. And he had to keep in mind that despite what he felt for Kurt, he didn't want to sacrifice their friendship.

What was weird about the whole thing was that since _the kiss_, Dave hadn't really stopped to reflect on his feelings. He'd gotten so caught up in the panic and denial, his mind entirely focused on whether or not Kurt would tell the world what had transpired in that locker room, that he didn't actually stop to think about why he'd done it. Everything happened so fast between _the kiss_ and the expulsion. At the time the days crawled by, but he realized now that he'd been so entirely swallowed up by his fear that the whole second half of his junior year had flown by. Everything that happened in those proceedings months had bunched together, leaving little room for anything else.

Yes, Dave liked Kurt. Dave was attracted to Kurt. Dave kissed Kurt because he had feelings for him. It had been his 'Aw, Fuck It' moment.

Don't laugh! Seriously.

Like in movies, when a guy doesn't have the balls to tell a girl how he feels until he finally boils over and says 'Aw, Fuck It' and goes for it. And in the movies, it usually results in the reciprocation of feelings, then _Bam_! happy ending... So yeah, for that moment, Dave had just let go of all the things in his head that told him what he was feeling was wrong. He'd just decided 'Aw, Fuck It' and hoped for the best.

Course there was a lot more to it than that. There was this underlining need to tell Kurt what was really going on. Explain that all this was a very sick and twisted version of pulling pigtails. Explain that he was overcompensating in a way to avoid the consequences of being outed himself. It always seemed like in the movies, guys were able to say all that with one kiss. That was a skill that Dave had apparently not been blessed with...

It wasn't until things had actually calmed down over the summer that Dave really sat back and thought about all that though. He'd been at work, in fact, looking at two more hours of being in the dish room before his shift was over. It was a quiet night. The person working opposite him on the clean end of the dish machine was someone from the morning shift and didn't speak much English.

He'd been reflecting on the fact that a large majority of his co-workers were Hispanic, and it probably would've done him more good to have taken Schuester's class. But he hadn't chosen Spanish. He'd chosen French, because on the first day of the third semester freshmen year, after the class had taken a semester of both languages, each student then got to decide which class they wanted to take for the following three years. And the boy in front of Dave, at his third row, window seat in homeroom, had chosen French.

Dave had taken French because Kurt Hummel had chosen it. And Dave wanted to be in the same class as Kurt Hummel. Dave wanted to be around Kurt Hummel. Dave liked Kurt Hummel. He'd kissed Kurt Hummel because he had feelings for him.

And wow, had he screwed that up.

He recalled thinking about how oddly his dawning sexuality had played out though. He'd hit puberty very young, but his sexual drive had been at a minimum for such a long time. Don't be mistaken, like any adolescent boy, there was a definite curiosity of the marvelous that came with playing with your willy-nilly. There were people Dave thought were nice. People he wanted to spend more time with. And eventually he recognized those that were considered more attractive than others and why that was.

It took Dave until he was 17 years old to realize it, but the reason his sexuality had been dormit for so long was because he'd never actually met someone that filled the criteria to ignite that within him. Kurt was his _type_. Dave had never put a whole lot of thought into such a concept until then, but he was realizing now how true it was. And once he'd realized just what it was that he found attractive, that's when he was able to identify it more.

Sure, guys like Finn and Puck were good looking, but that just didn't quite do it for Dave. Physically, it was strangely complicated for him. He liked tight, small frames. Muscular, but still with a sense of grace. Like Avery Herbach's shoulders, the way they rolled and shifted as he made his way up and down the soccer field, and how his shoulder blades glided under his skin when he did his weird mambo thing down the hallway.

Or Anthony Rashad's hips. Sam Even's ass, or Mike-fucking-Chang. Good God, Mike Chang...

But those were only a few things. Okay, except Chang. There was nothing about that boy's body Dave didn't like.

But that's when the other half of the mix came into play. Personality. Maybe there are some people in the world that could be drawn to a significant other based solely on appearance, but Dave wasn't one of them.

And that was what separated all of McKinley from Kurt Hummel. There was no one like him. Dave didn't know what it was to really, honestly be totally into someone until he met Kurt. Then he could see it clearly. Knew why he lingered on some boys more than others. And as he became more (privately) comfortable with the fact that he was gay, he could look at people on TV and at people around him, and identify what he was drawn to and why.

But, it didn't just end there. Kurt wasn't just some model for which Dave could then bounce off of and discover more like him. Dave looked. Dave met more guys like Kurt. He'd even been ballsy enough to make an appearance at Lima's sole gay bar, Scandals. He now knew guys that he was attracted to for the same reasons he was attracted to Kurt. But even still, Kurt remained so very special in his mind's eye.

Dave didn't know why that was. No clue, in fact. But regardless, it was a fact.

Dave discarded the shirt as it apparently didn't look too good, considering he'd barely even been able to look at it with any acknowledgment since he put it on. He instead reached for the red and white checkered shirt Santana had bought him over the summer. Dave liked it, and Santana had been insistent it made him look '_muy caliente_'.

Dave laughed to himself as he fiddled with the buttons, recalling how Santana had leaded against his bathroom sink, giving him a once over with her eyes when he'd caved in and finally tried it on for her. "Mmm mmm mmm." she'd said, "Estás en en fuego, Papi!"

Dave's ears had been so red he really did think he was on fire.

Dave trusted Santana not to lead him astray though. She certainly wouldn't tell him she thought he looked good in something if she didn't mean it. And realistically, she probably had a better sense of men's fashion than Dave did, as most women do. Even if Dave was a tough case, Santana had done some grooming over the summer.

_"Why do you cut it so short? Let the curls grow in." _  
><em>"Are polos all you own?" <em>  
><em>"You don't need something tight, but form fitting. Something that hugs the shoulders and arms."<em>  
><em>"I said sprintz the cologne. Don't drown yourself in it." <em>

He'd grown the top of his hair out so it curled a little. He cut his wardrobe of polos in half. He let Santana replace all those discarded clothes with garments 'of her approval' and he let her talk him into a cologne that didn't come in one of those Wal-mart gift boxes.

And he only sprayed it once.

Dave gave himself a once over. So okay, he wasn't Kurt's type. But hey, at least he looked better than he did last year. And at least he wasn't trying to sport a cut-off hunter's jacket. Dave wasn't sure how Finn had made that work-

The sounding of his doorbell abruptly woke Dave from his thoughts. He glanced at the clock: 6:59.

Crap. Dave had been so lost in his own thoughts he'd totally spaced out for like, a half an hour. He quickly adjusted the shirt one more time, then made his way downstairs. He'd managed to keep himself busy the majority of the day so his mind didn't dwell on the fact that Kurt Hummel was coming to _his house_. That may have very well been a bad plan, however, as it was hitting him now as he thundered down the stairs.

Kurt Hummel was at his door, and in all likelihood, Dave was going to say something incredibly stupid or awkward within the first five minutes because he didn't exactly prepare himself for this.

Son of a bitch.

He took a breath as his hand reached for the doorknob. '_Don't freak out_,' he told himself. Kurt knew him. Kurt wouldn't be surprised or disappointed with him. He knew how Dave acted, he'd heard Dave's lame jokes before. This wouldn't be any different.

But it was different. It was different because when Dave opened the door, it wasn't anything like when he opened Kurt's car door every morning. Kurt's smile was different. His eyes were wide. His back held straight. But he didn't hold himself up in the haughty way he did around school. He huffed heavily, as though he'd been holding that breath for quite some time.

"Hi!" He said. It was breathy. Dave swallowed hard, checking to make sure his throat worked.

"Hey Fancy." He replied, then stepped aside, ushering Kurt in.

"Your place is nice!" Kurt said as he began shouldering off his jacket, eyes scanning anything within his direct line of vision. Dave took Kurt's coat as he pealed his arm out of the sleeve. He took note that Kurt's cheeks were burning red. Geez, he must have left him out there for longer than he thought.

"Chilly out?" Dave asked. Kurt gave a little shrug, curiously peeking into the living room. Dave caught himself drinking in those dark shinny jeans, what he assumed were designer boots that met his knee, and like, three layers of shirts under a very strange looking vest that bunched at his tailbone...

Okay, so check him out while he's not looking. There's nothing wrong with that!

"No, not really." Kurt replied. Dave hung Kurt's jacket up as he meandered closer to the kitchen. "Mmm," he said, "Something smells good." Dave made an apprehensive sound in his throat.

"Don't get too excited. Granted it's a specialty dish of mine, but my cooking skills are probably on the same scale as someone with an Easy Bake Oven." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, leading the way into the kitchen.

"Hey now, I made some pretty marvelous things with my easy bake oven." Kurt declared. Dave couldn't stifle the chuckle in his throat.

"I am in no way surprised that you owned one." he said as he made his way toward the fridge, "Can I get you a drink?"

"Water's fine." Kurt leaned his body into the island in the middle of the kitchen as Dave turned to the cupboards, just in time to conceal his blush at the way Kurt's rear-end stuck out at the motion. He grabbed two glasses then nervously pushed up his sleeves. Damn cuffs were too close to his sweaty palms. "It was a darn good thing I did though. It was only a few years later I told my father he was no longer permitted anywhere near the kitchen with any intentions to cook."

Dave laughed, sliding the glass across the counter and leaning on the other side of the island.

"Bad cook?" he asked. Kurt took a large gulp of his drink, nodding. Dave tried not to watch the way his throat moved with the reflex.

"Terrible." he said, "He rarely cooked before my mom died, and my attempts at doing hands on lessons provided little results." Kurt took another sip, shrugging, "Though most of those lessons were doubled as tea-parties, so I can see how it probably confused him." Dave smiled broadly, shaking his head,

"Oh God, I'm picturing your dad at a little table with like, eight chairs of stuffed animals and a little tea-cup in his hand." Kurt laughed softly, unable to mask his guilty cringe.

"That's unfortunately rather accurate. Yeah, he sat in the little chairs with me, pretended to eat my plastic crumpets..." Kurt shrugged again, a smile spread over his lips.

"Now that deserves some props." Dave said. Both boys looked up as the oven dinged, signalling the timer had completed its cycle. Dave quickly turned to it, hunching down to open the door. He snatched the oven mitts off the counter, reaching in to pull the small glass dish out to be set on the counter top. He popped the lid, and smiled at the contents.

Looked done. And he hadn't burnt it. And he had yet to make a stupid or otherwise embarrassing comment. Dave mentally handed himself a few props of his own.

"Mmm, smells good."

Dave couldn't smell the casserole at all though. He couldn't feel the heat of the dish under his fingertips. Couldn't hear the hum of the oven. All he could smell was the scent of Kurt's shampoo as he came up beside him. His entire body heated up, making him keenly aware of the other boy's close proximity. And when Kurt spoke in that close, hushed tone, it was like all the rest of the world faded into the background. Like for a second, the whole world just shut off, leaving just the two of them.

Unfortunately that apparently included Dave's brain as well.

He shook his head, blinking rapidly as the censors in his mind reconnected and his brain booted back up. He looked at Kurt with wide eyes.

"What?" he blurted. Kurt's eyebrow shot up.

"Are you even listening to me?" he asked. Dave recognized immediately that he was in danger. He knew this behavior. He'd seen it happen to his friends, and he'd experienced a dose of it first hand this summer when he'd spaced out on Santana. That tone, the folded arms, the tipped head, the pop of the hip. Dave had to think fast.

"Sorry," he blurted, turning his back to Kurt in order to place the dish on the island (and to escape that accusing glare). "Guess I've got Star Trek on the brain." He picked up a spatula, separating the casserole to serve. "S'not all my fault though, Zachary Quinto can be a bit distracting." He swallowed hard, hearing the clicks of Kurt's heals as the other boy rounded Dave, entering his peripherals on the other side.

"Understandable." Kurt mused. His elbows eased on the counter top and he folded his hands to rest his cheek against, watching Dave dish the casserole. "Though I have yet to officially select my favorite. Chris does have some noteworthy attributes."

Dave grinned. Bullet successfully dodged.

"_Some_?"

Whoops. He hadn't meant to say that, especially not as prominently as he did. Course, he didn't realize that until he'd already looked over at Kurt, and when those surprised blue eyes met his he immediately felt heat fill his cheeks and ears.

"Here." He said quickly, handing Kurt a plate. He pulled the silverware drawer out hastily, eager to look away, and breathed in much deeper than he meant to as he handed Kurt a fork. Kurt didn't take it at first, and Dave was forced to meet his eyes.

Kurt smiled, and took the fork.

He didn't press after that. They migrated into the living room, and Dave popped the movie in. But when he turned around, he found Kurt sitting just barely to the left of the middle.

Dave wasn't sure how to interpret that. Was he suppose to sit next to Kurt? That seemed awfully close. But he sat that close to Santana all the time. And of course the middle of the couch was the location of optimal television viewing. Maybe that's all Kurt was going for. Did that mean Dave was suppose to be a courteous host and sit on the end of the couch? But wouldn't that seem like he was trying to avoid being near Kurt? Maybe there was a strategic place between the middle of the couch and the edge of the couch that he could place himself so as not to offend and not too seem like he's trying to put the moves on...

...Dave quickly realized this was a lot of thought put into seating placement, and on top of that, he hadn't come to a conclusion in the 5 seconds it took for him to get from the TV to the sofa. So there Dave stood for a good .00000001 seconds, in dire need of some sort of divine intervention.

Dave imagined that Kurt would most likely argue that God had nothing to do with it, but a solution presented itself, none the less: Kurt reached for this plate on the coffee table, folded his legs _Criss Cross Apple Sauce_, and placed it on his lap.  
>Dave turned to sit, and did the same. Though their knees may have been brushing, it put distance between them, and yet still had them sitting together. Genius! Another bullet dodged.<p>

Dave pressed play.

Kurt didn't get a lot of the movie references. And at first Spock's ears freaked him out.

"And he had a bowl cut!"

About a half an hour in, their plates sat empty on the coffee table. Kurt put his legs down, crossed at the knee. Dave didn't notice at first. Didn't notice that he too sat back casually, feet propped up on the table. Didn't notice he'd slowly been inching into the slump their combined weight was sinking them into. He didn't even notice their legs touching, until Kurt turned, whispering into his ear.

"I'm starting to see the appeal."

Dave inhaled sharply. Suddenly, his brain wasn't even remotely registering that Zachary Quinto and Zoe Saldana were having a very hot make out session on the TV screen. Those flexing muscles under blue spandex that had him squirming a second ago were minuscule compared to the shiver ravaging Dave's body as Kurt's warm breath splayed over his ear and neck.

Realizing Kurt was speaking to him Dave's brain reflexively told him to turn. His body shifted slightly, and Kurt's smaller frame gave into the slump, resting his side gently against Dave's. Their shoulders pressing together, their legs side by side, and Dave felt Kurt's slim fingers against his.

Every sensory in his body was suddenly on high alert, but at the same time, he was completely unresponsive to all of them. He'd turned his head, eyes meeting Kurt's, nose just a painfully small distance away from his.

_Oh shit..._

There was no way Dave was going to dodge this bullet. If he could somehow put together any coherent thought, he would have no clue what he could possibly say that would make Kurt believe that the reason he didn't move when Kurt slid into him was anything other than him pining for Kur-

… but Kurt wasn't moving either...

Kurt...wasn't moving. The other boy breathed out, and Dave felt his hot breath against his lips. Dave's body shuttered, fingers twitching against Kurt's, and like it was a chain reaction, Kurt's hand suddenly came to life, reaching up to clasp around the back of Dave's neck and he tipped his head. Dark lashes shielded his blue eyes, and warm breath was replaced by soft, moist lips.

Kurt's mouth was hot against his, but not as hot as the fire burning in Dave's chest and through every nerve in his body. Their lips broke apart and Dave inhaled deep.

Everything smelled of Kurt.

"David?"

Dave would later have to apologize to Kurt if he'd intended on asking Dave something. Dave had completely cut him off, spurred to life by the ache in Kurt's voice and the godforsaken way Kurt said his name that made his stomach flutter and loins burn.

Dave's hand flew up, fingers desperate to feel the flushed skin of Kurt's cheek. His thumb grazed over the soft flesh, fingertips gliding along his jaw as his thumb traced Kurt's delicate throat until it fell to his bicep, where he gripped softly. Kurt lifted his body from the cushion, allowing Dave to snake his other hand around Kurt's waist. Dave couldn't keep the whimper in his throat as Kurt's fingers ranked through his hair. Pulling even. His hands ran over the bends of Kurt's body, memorizing him through the layers of fabric.

The movie was undoubtedly to an action scene, but all Dave could hear was the sounds of their lips disconnecting and reconnect and Kurt's heavy breaths. All he could hear, see, smell, feel and think of was Kurt. He wanted desperately to be able to process this situation. To consider what was happening and not only relish in the fact that: Holy shit, he was making out with a guy, he was making out with Kurt. And he wanted to know he was doing everything right.

But thinking was like a whole other level of difficult at the moment, because right now he was doing everything he could not to flip Kurt on his back against the sofa and ravage him until not one part of his body was unmarked by Dave. And then, a small, throaty moan left Kurt's lips. The sound filled Dave's mouth, and he swore to God he could taste the desire in that sound. But rather than scaring the fuck out of Kurt, Dave suddenly thought of another route.

A route he very much liked the idea of. Dave gripped onto Kurt's side, trying to no avail to stifle the low grumble in his chest. He lifted Kurt from the sofa, and dragged his smaller body over his lap.

Kurt abruptly stiffened, and for the first time in five minutes, they opened their eyes to acknowledged the situation. Kurt's hands pressed against Dave's chest in a stop motion, putting pressure down on him as if to keep him at bay. And at the same time, his lithe fingers fiddled with the collar of Dave's shirt, and Dave could plainly see the conflict in Kurt's eyes.

A conflict he apparently didn't need Dave's help to address. Kurt's hips shuffled forward, pressing his chest to Dave's, his head dipped down to once again reclaim his lips. His hands explored the vastness of Dave's shoulders and chest, up and down his arms, lingering at his muscles, intertwining with the curls in his hair.

And to his credit, Dave did his absolute best to keep his hands tame. He ranked his fingers down Kurt's spine, resting at the bunched fabric at his tailbone. Dave's hand pressed against it, forcing Kurt's pelvis against his abdomen, disconnecting their kiss and giving Dave ample access to Kurt's neck.

And God the sound that came from those pretty lips the moment his mouth connected with the tender flesh of his throat. He sucked in sharply at the sound, his tongue lapping over the spot. Then he moved down, following the line of Kurt's throat to his collarbone. His tongue traced back up his Adam's apple, and - wanting nothing more to hear that sound again - Dave's lips clamped around the bend of Kurt's neck, sucking at his flesh. Kurt moaned alright. He moaned low and heavy, and his hips rutted against Dave.

Dave suddenly became aware of Kurt's very hardened cock pressing against his stomach, and became even more aware of that tight ass (which he'd so badly wanted to feel this whole time) rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. Dave's eyes popped open and his hands fell below the belt for the first time. His palms laid flat against Kurt's thighs and the boy stilled. Dave swallowed hard, wanting so badly for Kurt to do it again but knowing better than to make the first move.

His palm moved ever-so-carefully in a circle, and Kurt once again moved forward, rubbing himself against Dave and slowly gliding his rear end along Dave's length. Dave couldn't keep from moaning. He hadn't meant to murmur Kurt's name though, which once again caused Kurt to freeze. Dave titled his head up, and Kurt pressed his forehead to Dave's.

There were a lot of things Dave wanted to ask right then. Most of which he was afraid to know the answer to. His lips weren't dry, his throat worked, but he couldn't bring himself to form any words. He just couldn't.

Kurt eased himself down off his knees, resting his body against Dave's and effectively straddling his lap. His hands rose from Dave's shoulders, soft palms laying flat against his cheeks. Kurt looked slightly conflicted. While Dave could barely think it seem Kurt's brain was going a mile a minute. He could practically see the words through his eyes, making a jumbled mess of thoughts in his brain. All moving too fast, getting caught on one another.

It was adorable. Kurt was adorable. And wonderful, and kind, and … more than Dave could ever have imagined wanting in another person. Kurt was beyond his scope of thought. He was so much more than Dave could ever be. Dave couldn't deny it: he didn't feel like he deserved Kurt. But he just couldn't keep himself from wanting him.

So he kissed him again. His hand pressed to his waist, the other tangled in his unbelievably soft hair, pressing Kurt's smaller form to him as he moved his lips along Kurt's in a way that was undeniably reminiscent of their first. Not the first this evening. Their _first_ kiss.

Needy, feverish, hungry. Passionate and pure. And this time, when Dave let him go, Kurt didn't waste a second in returning the kiss. His hands traced up and down Dave's chest until finally his stiff unmoving body gave in, and with an exasperated heave of his shoulders, Kurt grinded himself against Dave.

And while Dave moaned into Kurt's mouth, Kurt gave a heady sigh of relief, thrusting into him again. Then again, and again. Dave felt himself slumping down, so he propped a foot up on the coffee table, providing leverage for himself, and apparently for Kurt as well; Dave gasped softly when he felt Kurt's rear rub against his thigh.

Kurt froze, and at first he thought he'd startled Kurt. He hurriedly tried to form some words in an attempt to assure him everything was fine. Kurt's hands on his chest stopped him though, and he watched as Kurt peered over his shoulder, and repeated the action, rocking his hips against Dave's crotch and then back again, his ass rubbing Dave's thigh.

And he moaned, biting down on his lip.

And holy shit was it hot. Dave swallowed hard, hands once again falling to Kurt's thighs. He _had_ to see that again. He pressed softly to the back of Kurt's legs, encouraging the movement. Kurt complied, and Dave lifted his leg with the motion. Kurt was absolutely writhing on top of him and Dave wasn't sure how much of this he could take. He was close to cumming. God, he was so close.

"Me too." Dave hadn't even realized he'd said anything out loud. Later he'd wonder if he'd said anything else he wasn't aware of. But at that point in time, his whole brain was clouded by the realization that Kurt was about to cum grinding against him. Just the thought had him on the edge. He cupped Kurt's face in his hand, desperately claiming his lips once more. He was so close... He was _so_-

Both boys froze the second they heard a car door slam. It was far too loud to be a neighbors, which could only mean one thing.

"Oh fuck." Dave blurted. Kurt's eyes went wide and he flung himself off of Dave and back into the spot on the sofa he'd been occupying only 30 minutes ago. "Ooooh, fuck." Dave repeated as a second door slammed.

"Are they going to be pissed that I'm here?" Had they not been in the situation they were in, Dave probably would have commented on that being the first time he'd heard Kurt curse.

"No." Dave blurt, reaching down to adjust himself in his suddenly painfully tight pants. "They just," he gave a shrug, still trying to catch his breath. "They just don't know." he said. Kurt gave a small nod, reached up to run his fingers through his hair. Dave sighed, "And my cock being rock hard would probably be a dead giveaway." He said absently, pulling at his jeans again.

Kurt gave a small whimper next to him, immediately drawing back his attention.

"Don't say that." He said.

Now probably wasn't the best time - in fact it was probably the worst possible time - but Dave couldn't keep himself from stopping to appreciate the very disoriented nature Kurt was currently in. He was utterly disheveled. His normally perfectly pressed clothing twisted and bunched. His hair wispy and loose, and his lust-glossed eyes half-lidded.

"What?" Dave said mockingly, "My rock hard cock?" Kurt gave another whimper, and just as Dave was about to give a satisfied grin, Kurt's slender hand reached down to rub the bulge in his skinny jeans.

Dave was still pinching himself soft when his parents walked through the door.

And they loved him, obviously. Who wouldn't love Kurt. Dave hadn't exactly lied to them before they left when he said he was having a friend over. It was their faults for assuming he meant Azimio. So his father was quite surprised to see Kurt Hummel on his sofa.

None-the-less, Kurt's instant charm could put anyone at ease. And as the movie that they didn't finish watching came to a close, Kurt announced he should probably go.

"Aww, alright well, come by anytime dear." Dave's mom said with a smile before she retired into the kitchen.

"Good to see you again Kurt." At first Dave had been slightly embarrassed with the way his dad gave Kurt a man-pat on the shoulder before he followed his wife, but Kurt smiled warmly, and Dave remember Kurt's dad was sort of the definition of manly-man.

Dave walked Kurt to the door, suddenly feeling very conflicted over the strange turn of events that had come from this evening. He wondered, had Kurt come over with the expectations of this being a date?

The jingle of Kurt's keys brought Dave back to reality though and he jumped to attention.

"I'll walk you to your car." He said, hurriedly toeing on his shoes. Kurt gave a smile.

"You don't have to. It's cold out." He said. Dave shrug apprehensively.

"I want to."

It _was_ cold out. Bitter in fact. Kurt started up his car, then turned, wrapping his arms around his mid-drift to contain heat. Dave was now thankful for the placement of their driveway on the right side of the house, out of direct eye-shot. And as much as he hated helping his father repair the fence every summer, he now loved that fence for simply existing. Because explaining to his parents and neighbors why he couldn't keep himself from pressing Kurt up against his car and kissing him senseless would have been quite the challenge.

As they broke apart, Kurt cleared his throat. Dave was uncertain whether or not the red on his cheeks was due to the cold or something else.

"So," Kurt said, "Call me tomorrow?" he asked. Dave blinked for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah, definitely." he said, instantly wanting to kick himself for how stupidly eager he sounded. Kurt smiled, none-the-less.

"I had fun." he said, bouncing twice on the balls of his feet, "I'm glad you invited me over." Dave smiled.

"Yeah, me too." Kurt nodded, then moved to his car.

"Get inside before you freeze!" Dave laughed, nodding as he moved around the car and Kurt slid into the warmth of his vehicle. He made his way back up to the porch as Kurt pulled out onto the road.

And that's when it hit him. That's when what could very well be the most important question he could have asked that night came to mind:

What the hell ever happened to Blaine?


End file.
